The Truth
by adromir
Summary: Injured by a bomb blast, Sam wakes up in a hospital, only to receive the worst news of his life. Following sequel to 'The Lie' and 'The Deception', the conclusion to the Broken Arrow trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, again. It's not even November, but I'm baaaack. Luckily (or unluckily, depends on you readers' point of view), my business trips have been cut short. Yippee! I hate flying anyway, so there. **

**As per explained in the summary, this fic is the following sequel to 'The Lie' and 'The Deception', the ending to the Broken Arrow trilogy. Honestly, I never thought this would become a trilogy but somehow my plot bunnies never want to let it go. Sheeeesh!**

**However, I gotta warn you, this fic is a _little_ crazy. No, make that a _lot_ crazy than usual. You will find out why. Hopefully no one's gonna kill me for this. ;)**

**Summary : Injured by a bomb blast, Sam wakes up in a hospital, only to receive the worst news of his life. Following sequel to 'The Lie' and 'The Deception', the ending to the _Broken Arrow_ trilogy.**

* * *

"Sammy?"

The familiar voice pulled Sam Braddock back to consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and he slowly looked around him in an attempt to gather his bearings. Dazed, his head pounding, he found himself lying in a hospital bed. His body was covered by crisp white sheet from toe to torso, an IV line attached to his arm.

"Son, can you hear me?"

Weakly, he rolled his head against the pillow towards the voice. His father was sitting next to the bed, looking at him with great concern. "Hey, Sammy. It's okay, I'm right here."

Squinting against the glare of the light overhead, Sam tried to speak, "Wh…what…?"

General Braddock picked up his son's limp hand and squeezed. "You survived the blast, Sammy. You have a concussion but you're gonna be alright."

Sam blinked, taking in his surroundings once more. "Where…?""

"You're in the hospital, obviously."

Shaking his head, Sam tried again, his voice coming out in a croak, "Team One? Where are they?"

At this, the elder Braddock hesitated and dragged his gaze away, his face a mixture of reactions—fear, anxiety and anger—all rolled into one.

"Dad?" the son asked again. "Where's my team? They got out alright? Are they okay?"

"You need to rest. There'll be time later for—"

"No! Tell me now. Is my team okay?"

When his father turned to look back at him, Sam saw the pain in the old man's eyes, pain that was reserved for _him_.

"Sammy," Braddock senior paused for a heartbeat before he softly continued, "I need you to be strong."

"What do you mean?" A sliver of dread ran up and down Sam's spine at his father's solemn words.

Sighing, the General gave Sam's hand another squeeze as if the gesture could channel his own strength into his son. "The blast caught your team head-on."

"What are you saying?"

"You're the only one found alive, kid."

His face drained of all color, Sam stared at his father. "What?"

"They're gone. Team One is no more."

Sam continued to stare at the General, still in deep shock. "They are….dead? All of them?"

Braddock senior sadly nodded. "I'm sorry."

Tears were forming in Sam's eyes but he quickly blinked them away. "J…Jules?"

"Jules too. I'm real sorry, son."

"No." Sam shook his head, struggling to push himself upright. "No, I don't believe you."

"Easy, Sammy. You're hurt. Lie back down." Standing, General Braddock quickly grabbed his son's shoulders.

"Get your hands off me!" Sam snapped back, shoving his father away. Yanking the IV line out of his arm, he swung his legs over the side and took a step, only to drop onto the floor in a graceless heap.

"Sam!" The General quickly crouched down, holding his son steady. "You're not supposed to be on your feet yet. Now get back into bed."

Grimacing with pain, Sam hitched up his hospital gown to reveal the bandage wrapped around his left thigh. "What the hell?"

"You got hit by shrapnel. The wound is deep but you're lucky it didn't hit an artery."

"You call this lucky?" Sam glared back. "Where the hell is my team?"

"Sammy…"

Shrugging off his father, Sam pushed against the floor to rise. "Fine. I'll call them and find out myself."

The General firmly wrapped an arm around his waist and yanked him back. "All of them are gone, son! They didn't survive the blast."

"That's impossible!" Sam shouted back, struggling for release. "I saw the bombs. I gave them enough warning to escape."

Shaking his head, General Braddock retorted, "But they were unable to! The explosion brought down the entire building on top of them, Sam. They couldn't make it out in time."

"No…no, no, no…" Crying openly now, Sam pushed and shoved to free himself. "They're alive. My team is still alive!"

"Sammy, please…"

"Let go of me!" Sam demanded, and swung an elbow towards his father's face.

The General easily deflected it, shouting, "Nurse! Nurse!"

Two nurses and a male orderly rushed inside. By then, Sam's struggle had grown more frantic, arms swinging and legs kicking. It took every one of them to hold him down. Sam's attending doctor also appeared. Looking at his patient's current state, he barked, "Sedative!"

One of the nurses rushed towards the tray in a corner of the room before returning with a hypodermic needle, which she then passed to the doctor who quickly yet efficiently administered the procedure.

As the tranquilizer flowed into his vein, Sam roared to the ceiling. The sound, akin to the howling of a wounded animal, was heard throughout the entire floor. Soon afterwards, his struggling gradually ceased as his eyes glazed out of focus.

"Gone…" Sam whimpered, staring up at his father with tears running down his face. "My whole team…gone…"

Misty eyed, Braddock senior cupped his son's wet cheek. "I know, Sammy. I know."

"I should be dead too…"

His eyelids falling shut, Sam's world turned to dark once more, the darkness so deep it even haunted his subconscious.

* * *

_**Five hours earlier…**_

Team One started the shift like any others. It was strictly routine, nothing out of the ordinary. Just another day at the office. Two warrant calls and a hot call later, each team member was still on full alert and in high gear, ever ready to take on any tight situations thrown their way. What they didn't expect was to receive a crucial call from General Braddock, a call that would have great impact on the entire team.

Braddock senior reported that General Morrell, the man behind Sam's abduction and torture over a missing nuclear warhead several months ago, had escaped while being transported to a military holding cell in Ottawa. Obviously he had had some outside help. And these supporters of his were willing to help him further, as shown by the scale of the attack and rescue mission which had left most of the military guards dead and the rest close to death.

Everyone's biggest worry was Sam's safety. There was no doubt that Morrell would come after him, either for revenge or to eliminate the only living witness. After Braddock's call, Team One had quickly regrouped inside the briefing room. Within the past hour they had been trying to convince their stubborn teammate to get into the military's protection program, to no avail.

"No way. Out of the question," Sam was saying, a sharp glare aimed at Sergeant Parker.

"Sam, that's a direct order. You must do as you're told," the Sergeant tersely responded, his arms crossed over his chest. "Your father thinks it's for the best—"

"Since when do you start taking orders from the General?" Sam fumed. "_He_ makes you do this?"

"Sam!" Parker shouted, losing his cool. "He and I agree on the same thing. It's for your own safety. You need to stay off the radar until everything settles down."

"I will not go into hiding," Sam shot back. "That's a coward's way out."

"This is not about being a coward, Sam. It's about staying alive," Ed chose that moment to speak. "You have to get yourself into a safe house."

"That's right, Sam. You're the lone witness," added Jules. "They have you on target. You are in danger."

"And you're not?" Sam asked her. "Jules, they would already have figured out by now how important you are to me. They might come after you too."

"They will not waste their time on me. It's you they're after," she said. "With you dead, they won't have a case on General Morrell. He could walk a free man."

Sam scoffed. "This is not a normal public trial. It's a court martial. Morrell is not going to walk free, witness or no witness. The intel they have on him is enough to send the bastard to prison for the rest of his life."

"Yeah, but he's already out there. At large," Spike pointed out. "Who knows where his men is hiding him and what they will do next to even the score. Sam, you gotta have some protection."

"I already have protection. That's what Team One is for," Sam pointed out. "I thought I have you guys covering my back."

"Of course, we always have your back, Sam," Ed said, reassuringly. "But we can only do so much. You know how it is. The team has jobs to do here. We can't protect the public and worry about you all at the same time."

"Oh, so I'm just a distraction now?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then say what you mean to say, Ed! Admit it, you think that I will put the entire team in danger."

Ed scowled. "That was not what I mean."

"Liar."

"Okay, enough!" Parker barked, stepping between the two. He turned to face Sam directly. "You're giving me no other choice, Sam. As of now, you are on suspension until further notice."

"_What_? You can't do that!"

"Well, I just did." The Sergeant stood firm under the ferocious glare the younger man was sending him.

"On what grounds?"

"Insubordination for one, your safety for the other."

Sam saw red. "This not an insubordination and you know it, Sarge."

"Fine. So you agree to get yourself into a safe house as per ordered at your own free will?"

Cursing under his breath, Sam whirled around and stalked towards the window. He stood there, his body shaking with barely controlled rage. Jules went to him and put a calming hand on his back. "Sam, you've got to think this through. Your safety is far more important than anything right now."

"My job is also important, and so is the team." He rounded on her, his lips pursing. "Besides, we are one man short. Now that Raf has left, Team One cannot afford to lose another member. You guys need me out there."

"We can manage," Parker interjected.

"With only _four_ of you? That doesn't bring much assurance, don't you think?"

"Sam…"

The Barn's siren suddenly whooped, accompanied by Winnie's urgent yet steady voice, "Team One, hot call. Shootings reported in an abandoned shop lot at Adelaide Street in Fashion District."

Sighing, Parker strode out of the briefing room towards the dispatcher's station. "Winnie, we're in the middle of something and it might take a while. Send Team Three as primary. We'll join them soon after."

"Team Three is still wrapping up the scene at Riverdale."

"How about Team Four?"

"Already out, Boss."

"Damn. Why today of all days?" The Sergeant sighed again with a roll of his eyes. He then beckoned his team over. "Alright, guys. You heard her. We are on."

"I'm coming too," Sam declared, rushing alongside Spike and Jules. "Don't you dare try to stop me."

Parker frowned in disagreement at this, but Ed quickly placated him. "Greg, it's not ideal but Sam is right. We're already stretched thin with one man short here. We need him."

After a brief deliberation, Parker nodded in resignation. "Okay, fine. He can come."

Wagging a finger at Sam, the Sergeant added, "But this discussion is not over, you hear me? We will pick this up later. And, technically, you're still suspended. So you'd better do everything I say."

"Yes, sir." Sam grimly nodded before he went to join the rest of the team at the gun cage to collect their gear.

Within minutes, Team One was on the road. Riding shotgun with Ed, Sam checked and rechecked his weapons as their procession sped towards the target building.

Ed glanced at his teammate. "You're good, Samo?"

"Yeah, I'm good," was Sam's easy reply.

"Sure you can do this?"

"I'm on the job, Ed. Nothing's changed."

"Okay. I believe you. Just try and keep a cool head, okay?"

"I will."

Team One reached the abandoned shop lot under ten minutes. They had been fed additional info from Winnie on their way over, and now Sergeant Parker went through them again with his team.

"The shop has closed down over a year ago, no current tenant or owner available for further comments," he said through his com link, climbing out of the truck. "The sound of rapid shooting of a machine gun was heard by some passersby around the area. No subjects have been seen leaving the scene so they might still be in there. And nobody dares to go inside the building to check, which is smart of them."

"Yeah, all we need is the public turned vigilante," Spike said, shouldering a standard issue backpack filled with all kinds of assault gadgets. "Instead of just a firepower discharge to investigate, we might also have murder or a hostage situation to deal with."

"Hopefully it won't come to that," said Parker. "Ed, what's your take on this?"

"If not for the machine guns, I would say the subjects are just kids getting excited with guns. There have been various reports of wayward youngsters loitering about in there." Ed looked up at the top of the shop lot three floors above. "Kids are strangers to machine guns, however, which means something bigger is at play here. So use extreme caution. Sam, find a sniper perch. You're Sierra One."

"Copy." Snatching his Remy from the back of the truck, Sam loped away towards the building next door.

"Jules, Boss, take the back. Spike and I will go through the front door. Let's go guys."

They quickly fell into formation, as they had done a thousand times before. Moving with stealth and speed, Team One made their entrance, keeping their eyes out for any hostiles. So far, everything was still and quiet.

Meanwhile, Sam took his position on the rooftop of the neighboring building. He sat balance on one knee as he aimed his rifle, squinting through the telescopic sight. He could easily see the inside of the target building through the numerous broken windows.

"I see no sign of movements," he reported. "Level one and two are clear. Ground floor is in my blind spot, though."

"Copy," Ed responded. "Level ground, clear. Now climbing up to upper level."

A blinking red light at the third floor suddenly caught Sam's eyes. "Wait, hold on."

After adjusting his scope to a specific distance, Sam could fully determine the source of the blinking light. It was a digital timer, attached to a bulk of brown package which sat behind a pillar. And it wasn't the only one. Sam noticed a similar package on the south side of the floor.

"Shit," he cursed. "Team One, fall back. It's a trap!"

"Come again, Sam?"

"A trap! There are explosives right on top of you," Sam shouted, already packing up his rifle and running down the stairs. "You have less than fifteen seconds. Get out of there now!"

Team One wasted no more time to dispute. Aborting the mission, they made a run for it.

"Move, move, move!" Ed was heard yelling, followed by no other voices except for the sound of their heavy breathing as they rushed for the lower level.

"Team One, status!" Sam yelled the moment he emerged into the streets.

"Almost there," Parker said, between pants.

Instead of keeping his distance, Sam ran straight for the abandoned shop lot, towards his team. "Hurry, guys, hurry! It's gonna expl—"

_BOOM!_

The massive shockwave from the blast flung him backwards about ten feet in the air. He slammed down to earth amidst flying debris, hitting his unprotected head against something blunt and hard. And then he knew nothing more.

* * *

_**Present time…**_

General Braddock gazed down at his sleeping son in total silent. Sam looked peaceful and innocent lying there, golden hair tousled and features relaxed. The sedative had worked so fast that he drifted off within seconds. After they lifted Sam off the floor and returned him to bed, the nurses had attempted to place him in restraints, in case he woke up screaming and trashing again.

"No, he doesn't need to be tied down," Braddock senior had interjected, refusing to have his son treated in such a way. "He's no harm to anyone. He'll be alright."

If only he could believe his own words. The General never questioned his son's utter resilience. He knew how tough Sam was, physically and emotionally. And yet every man has his limits. Even the strongest person would break under too much pain, too much hurt.

Reaching down, he squeezed his son's left foot. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I really am."

Throwing the sleeping young man another concerned look, Braddock senior then stepped out of the room. He walked down the hallway before entering the waiting room next door. Four pair of eyes stared back at him in great anxiety.

"It is done," the General told them. "There's no turning back now."

With Sam's pitiful howl still ringing in her ears, Jules' face crumpled and she promptly broke down. "I think….maybe we've gone a bit too far."

"Easy, Jules. Sam can take this." Trying to console her, Sergeant Parker rubbed her back.

"This is a bad idea. I shouldn't have suggested this."

"We all agreed to this, Jules. This is not on you alone."

"It's just that….this is wrong. Cruel, even. We're playing with his feelings."

"Yes, it is cruel. But he gives us no choice. There's no way Sam would gladly go and place himself under protective custody. You know how stubborn he is," said Ed, sporting a bandage on his temple. He and the rest of Team One were able to leap through the back door when the bomb detonated. They were thrown clear, completely knocked right out of their feet. Except for some scrapes and bruises, the team managed to escape without any serious injuries.

Ironically, the teammate who had warned them of the danger in the first place, was the only one now lying in a hospital bed, believing that his entire team had died in the blast.

Shaking his head, Spike wrapped a comforting arm around the still trembling Jules. "So, what do we do now?"

"We carry on with the charade," said General Braddock. "I'll make sure Sam disappears immediately. His transport to the safe house has been arranged. My men will take him away soon after he feels better enough to travel."

"And we will continue to investigate the deadly trap that almost kill us all," Parker said, his face grim. "We shall learn whether it has anything to do with Morrell, or if it were a separate case entirely."

"I'll tell my team to give you guys a hand. If you need to crosscheck anything, let me know."

"Thank you. We will keep in touch." There was regret in the Sergeant's voice when he said next, "I'm sorry we have to put you in a difficult place, General. Asking you to lie to your son in our behalf, that wasn't right."

"As if I hadn't done that to him before," Braddock senior responded with a wan smile. "At any rate, shits are gonna hit the fan when Sammy finally finds out the truth. May God forgive us all."

**TBC…**

* * *

**I apologize for the crazy chapter. Don't know what has gotten into me. I'll go get my head examined now…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here it is, guys. The continuance to this story that I've put on hold for quite a loooooooooooooooooong while. Sorry for the delay. Blame it on my Plot Bunnies. They have been too excited with other Sam-whump stories. Even now they are pushing me to put up a JAM fic on board and so I had to tell them, "Not just yet, Bunnies. Not until after I've posted a new chappie for **_**The Truth**_**." Well, the bunnies are not happy with me right now. They threaten that they'll come out with some evil ways to whump up Sam as retribution. (Which is so not fair, don't you think?).**

**Anyway, do enjoy. **

* * *

It was almost 8.00 in the evening. Over twenty four hours had passed since Sam was brought unconscious into the hospital after the explosion, and close to twelve hours since the sedative had worn off. Upon waking up he just lay there and stared at nothing, barely speaking, barely moving.

He paid no heed to his surroundings. He ignored the doctors and the nurses as they fussed over him. He didn't care about the two armed military guards standing sentry around the clock right outside the door. To him nothing mattered anymore. There was no more sparkle in his clear blue eyes, no more smiles on his lips, no more laughter. Because there was no more Team One, no more Jules. And so no more Constable Samuel W. Braddock, only an empty husk of a vital man that he once was.

That was how General Braddock found his son when he quietly stepped into the room. Lying supine with his gaze devoid of any emotions, Sam looked like a living mannequin. Breathing yet unresponsive, alive but unfeeling, as if his soul had died along with his entire team.

"Sammy?"

The younger Braddock didn't even acknowledge his father's presence. He continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Sammy, look at me."

When he still got no response, the General came to stand by the bed and clamped Sam's shoulder, hard. "Sammy!"

Slowly, Sam rolled his head against the pillow to look at his father. "Yes, sir?"

Braddock senior emitted a small sigh of relief. His son's voice lacked energy, but at least he could still speak. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good, sir. Thanks for asking."

The General frowned. Not that he wasn't pleased by the positive answer, but the automated manner of Sam's reply made him man sound like a robot.

"Listen, I just talked to the hospital management," said Braddock senior. "They agree to discharge you early, but only after I've convinced them that there will be a medical person monitoring your condition at the safe house. All have been arranged and it's time we leave. Your ride is already waiting. But if you're still not up to it, if you need more time to gather your strength—"

"I'm fine. Let's go," Sam abruptly said, rising to a sitting position. He yanked the IV tube out of his arm and tugged at the wires attached to his chest before throwing away the covers.

"Whoa! Slow down, kid," his father cautioned him with a supporting hand on his shoulder.

Sam shrugged him off with a deadly glare. "Are we leaving or not?"

The father gazed straight at his son for several heartbeats before nodding. "Yes, we are. But you need some clothes. Here. I brought these for you."

Putting a gym bag he had been carrying onto the bed, Braddock senior then zipped it open. He pulled out a dark pullover and jeans. "You need help getting dressed?"

Sam snatched them from his father's grip. "I can manage."

Lowering his feet onto the floor, Sam had to take several moments to gather his balance. With his father watching his every move, he dropped the hospital gown and tugged on a pair of boxer briefs. The sudden pain from the wound on his left thigh nearly sent him to his knees.

When his father reached over to assist, Sam snarled back, "Don't!"

The General raised his arms as he retreated. "Okay. I'm staying right here."

With much care, Sam pulled on the rest of his clothes. He was bending to put on his boots when the world unexpectedly spun on him. His father caught him as he swayed. "Sammy, you need to sit down for a minute."

Sam pushed him away. "Leave me alone."

"I said _sit_ down!" Braddock senior angrily barked, looking every inch the General Badass as what he was called behind his back. Most people would have quaked in their boots, but Sam was not most people. And as the General's son, he had spent a whole lifetime hearing the harsh threatening voice to be easily intimidated. Yet, out of respect, he did as he was told and sat on the bed with his eyes closed, waiting for the room to stop its crazy spin.

Moments had gone by when Sam finally thought it was safe to reopen his eyes without the danger of barfing all over himself. He blinked in surprise to see the General kneeling on the floor near his legs. His father had helped slip the boots onto his feet and was now tying up the laces!

A huge lump formed in Sam's throat. It had been ages since the General had done that for him. The last time he did, Sam was only nine years old. After Sam's younger sister had died in the freak accident in that same year, his father rarely paid attention to him anymore, as if blaming him for her death, as if he had not protected his sister like a big brother should. When he grew up though, Sam later understood the real reason why the General distanced himself from his only son.

It was guilt, pure and simple. A father's terrible guilt for failing his own children.

"Dad…"

The General looked up at the soft voice. Finished with the bootlaces, he stood up and gazed at his son's pale features, noting the younger man's inner turmoil. "Ready to move, son?"

Sam swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

"Hold on one second." Braddock senior went to the doorway and called for his aides. Instantly, two armed men in full uniform entered. One of them took the gym bag, while the other went back out to find a crutch for Sam after he had refused the use of a wheelchair. Not long afterwards they were on their way, moving in a compact unit towards the bank of elevators.

Hobbling on his crutch smack dab in the middle of the small procession, Sam was clearly not happy. Flanked on each side by an armed guard, he felt more like a prisoner than a protected witness. The hospital staffs and some of the patients were eyeing him curiously as they walked past, giving him a sense of sheer unease he rarely felt before.

An officer from the hospital security joined them inside the elevator car. Sam raised an inquisitive eyebrow when the officer swiped his card through a secure lock before pressing the button for the helipad at the hospital rooftop.

"We'll be taking a chopper," was the General's explanation.

Sam shrugged, nonplussed. "That is obvious."

The car reached the top floor under ten seconds. They all emerged onto a well-lit helipad where a gray Erucopter Dauphin stood waiting, just warming up with its rotors in the early stage of rotating. Even then, strong gust of wind was already tugging hard at their hair and clothes.

Braddock senior gave his son a sidelong glance. "Sammy, don't even think about it."

"What are you saying?"

"I know you, kid. I can tell what's playing on your mind. You're thinking to commandeer the chopper and escape our watch."

Sam maintained a straight face as he replied, "I don't know how to fly a chopper."

The General snorted. "Right. You sure knew how to crash one, though."

Pursing his lips, Sam paused and glared back. He hated it when his old man kept bringing up his many escapades as a wild army brat in his younger days. "You still can't forget that stupid incident? I was only fifteen!"

"It wasn't stupid, just plain deadly. You could have been killed. I had to court-martial some people for that." His father chuckled. "You were only a kid then, so imagine what you would have accomplished over the years. Besides, I know you've taken discreet flying classes, only not enough to grant you a flying license. Not yet, anyway. Hopefully never. Just remember one thing before you do anything rash, Sammy. We're on your side. We did all this to keep you safe."

"It's a little too late, don't you think?" Sam retorted, his tone accusing. Without waiting for his father's reply, he turned and limped ahead to climb into the chopper.

The General had a comeback of his own for that, but he decided to let it go because the roar of the helicopter engine had grown louder, drowning all other sounds. He climbed up next to his son, strapping himself in. One armed guard took his seat next to the pilot, while the other flanked Sam's other side. Moments later, they were airborne.

They swiftly left the city behind them, heading west. Sam didn't bother asking where he was being taken. He knew no one would tell him, especially not his father.

"It's classified. Need to know basis," was the General's favorite phrase whenever his son asked him difficult questions.

Feigning indifference, Sam stared ahead and said not a word during the entire ride. Respecting his silence, his father didn't engage him in any conversation but kept himself busy giving instructions to his team through the radio. They continued to fly past Mississauga into the dark over busy highways and suburban towns. From above the view was not very familiar, but Sam's natural compass told him that they were heading further south, probably towards London.

Nearly half an hour into the flight, the helicopter banked slightly to the left before it made its descent. They were about to land on an opened field where a lone SUV parked nearby with its headlights on. The General unbuckled his seatbelt upon touching down, and gestured for his son to do the same. Followed by the two armed guards, the Braddocks disembarked, ducking slightly under the rotors as they rushed towards the waiting SUV.

Three men had stepped out of the vehicle and instantly stood at attention, saluting the General.

"At ease, gentlemen," Braddock senior told them. He then indicated his son. "Well, you all know Sam."

Sam nodded back in acknowledgement. Indeed, he had met them several times before, mostly during black op missions he carried out for the General. They were part of his father's special team. The dark-haired Italian was Sergeant Tony Luigi. Beside him stood Master Corporal Gerry Durnham, a fellow sniper. Sam only knew the third man as Monroe, a giant of a man who stood nearly seven feet tall. All three men wore civilian clothes but Sam could tell they were packing heat, based on the telltale bulge under their jackets.

"Everything in place?" the General asked.

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Luigi reported. "All are ready and secured."

"Good. Now I entrust my son's life in your hands." Turning to Sam, the General said, "This is where we part ways, for now. You are safe with my team."

Sam managed a bitter smile. "As simple as that, huh?"

Elder Braddock stared hard at the younger one before he told the others, "Give us a moment, guys."

The three men retreated to the SUV while the uniformed guards walked back towards the Eurocopter. Placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, the General led him a few paces away, out of anyone's hearing. "Look, son. I know this is not what you want, but it has to be done."

"You want me to go into hiding while others clean up the mess. You're right. This is _not_ what I want." Sam stared beseechingly at his father. "Come on, Dad. Let me help you find Morrell."

"You're badly injured."

"I've had worse. This is nothing."

"Nothing, my ass. You can't even walk right."

Scowling, Sam tossed away the crutch. "There! I don't even need that stupid thing anyway."

Braddock senior rolled his eyes. "Sammy, be serious."

"But I _am_!" his son yelled. "Morrell wiped out my whole team and you want me to just sit back and twiddle my thumb? What good would that do?"

Sighing, the General said, "It is yet to be confirmed that Morrell was behind the explosion."

"Don't give me that! You knew that was his work, you just can't prove it yet. Morrell got help from outside. They helped him escape, and they also helped him try to kill me. Only I survived and my teammates are now dead. Tell me, sir. If you were in my place, what would you do?"

"Sammy…"

"_What would you do?_" Sam shouted, tears welling in his eyes. He had to bit his lower lip to keep himself from crying openly. "You've got to…to let me at least do something, Dad. Because I…I've got nothing left…"

His face softening at Sam's breaking voice, the General affectionately gripped the back of the younger man's neck and lightly squeezed. Right then, he truly wanted to tell his son the truth, that Team One had survived the explosion and they were fully unharmed, and that it was just a charade to make Sam agree to protection. But that would only unravel all the effort already made.

"Sammy, I understand why you feel that way," Braddock senior kindly said, "But you have things to live for. As the lone witness, your life is the main priority and it's now at risk. With Morrell still at large, you should stay under the radar. My team will find him. My team will make sure he is brought to justice for everything that he did. I swear on this, Sammy. This will be over soon."

Sam shook his head sadly. "It's already over for me."

With that, Sam turned around and limped dejectedly towards the SUV. He climbed into the back seat without another word, buckled himself in and looked straight ahead. He had said his piece, and still he had failed to sway his father's decision. There was nothing more he could do.

Outside the car, the General was conferring with Sergeant Luigi and the two others. "Keep an eye on him the whole time."

"Of course, sir."

"I mean it. Never let Sam out of your sight."

Gerry Durnham, the youngest of three, was quick to promise, "He will be under my watchful eye 24/7, sir. Morrell and his men will not get within a hundred feet of your son."

Braddock snorted. "It's not Morrell I'm really worried about."

As the General's chopper lifted off into the sky, Luigi and his men returned to the SUV. Monroe got behind the wheel with Luigi riding shotgun. Sitting next to Sam, Gerry closely observed his charge, "How are you, Sam?"

"I'm good." Sam responded without much enthusiasm, gazing out the window. "Where are we going?"

"A safe house."

"I know that. But where is it? And if you tell me it's a need to know basis, I'm gonna kick you out of this speeding car."

Surprised by the cold threat, Gerry decided to keep his mouth shut. In fact, all four men did not speak for the first fifteen minutes of the drive. And then Luigi's phone suddenly buzzed, so he had to answer it. Gerry leaned forward to discuss with Monroe about what they were going to have for supper that night.

Sam blocked it all out, too deep in his own thoughts to take notice. Silently, he slipped one hand into the gym bag that had been dropped into the car earlier. He found what he looked for and took it out. It was his wallet, filled with his ID and some cash and a couple of credit cards. He tugged a folded photo from a compartment, gazing at it through unshed tears.

It was a group photo of Team One with their big family at the last annual picnic. It was the day when his relationship with Jules had received its blessing from the Commissioner. It was also the day when Sergeant Parker had decided not to accept his suspension papers after all. It was the day when the team was perfectly complete.

Not anymore. Those days were gone. Team One was now history. When he recalled the explosion that had taken away his teammates, Sam felt the hot bile rising up his throat.

Gerry heard him gagging. "Hey, man. You're okay?"

"Yeah." However, his nausea only grew worse. Cupping a hand over his mouth, Sam cried out, "Stop the car!"

Luigi turned in his seat. "Sam? What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna be sick…"

The SUV had not even come to a full stop when Sam stumbled out. He rushed to the railing and bent over, throwing up nearly a full minute until only dry heaves surfaced. Gerry had also stepped out and was now standing quietly just a couple feet away.

"Here." The other man passed him a bottle of Evian mineral water.

Sam took it, mumbling his thanks. He rinsed his mouth several times and leant heavily against the railing, trying to catch his breath. Only then he realized that they had stopped in the middle of a bridge with a flowing river underneath. It was too dark to figure out how strong the current was, but the road was quite deserted with not much traffic and so the sound of the surging water was clear like music to his ears.

"Hey…uh…your father told us about your team," Gerry said in an attempt to strike a conversation. "I'm sorry, Sam. That must be real awful."

Sam emitted a brittle smile. "Gerry, I'm sorry too."

"But that explosion was not your fault."

"No, I mean I'm sorry about this."

Gerry frowned. "What exactly are you sorry for?"

"_This_."

Without warning, Sam vaulted over the railings and took the thirty foot drop into the river, hugging his arms across his chest split second before he hit the water, feet first. He instantly disappeared from view.

Above at the bridge, Gerry was spewing curses left and right. "Holy hell! Holy freaking _hell_! Shit! Shit! Shit! God damn it! Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What? What just happened?" Luigi and Monroe scrambled out of the car when they heard Gerry's frantic cries. "Gerry, where's Sam?"

"He jumped!"

"He _what_?"

"He leapt over and jumped into the damned river!"

Sergeant Luigi glowered with displeasure. "Why the hell didn't you stop him?"

"I didn't even know he was gonna do that, Sarge! It took me completely by surprise."

Meanwhile, Monroe was staring at the river below as he tried to locate Sam. "I can see no sign of him. It's too dark to tell."

"You think he made it?" Luigi went to stand next to the big man.

"I hope so. One thing for sure, that kid has brass for balls," Monroe remarked with a shake of his head. "That's quite a drop. And the water must be freezing cold!"

"Well, what do you expect? Sam is ex-JTF2, and the General's son to boot. He has been trained to be a hard-ass since he was in diapers," Luigi dryly replied before running to the other side of the bridge to check whether their fleeing charge had swam upriver. However, like Monroe had said, it was too dark to tell.

"Know what this means?" Gerry started to panic. "We're fucked! The General is gonna have our heads!"

"Calm down, Gerry. Let's think this through," Monroe told him.

"Easy for you to say. You didn't promise the General that you won't take your eyes off his son 24/7."

Monroe smirked. "Lesson for today, don't be too sure of yourself."

When Luigi jogged back to them, Gerry asked him, "Sarge, what should we do now? There's no way we can find Sam from up here. "

"What else can we do? We have to call the General and tell him what just happened," said Luigi. "So call him, Gerry."

The Master Corporal turned pale. "_Me_? I'd rather commit suicide! No way I'm gonna call the General."

"I'm pulling rank here, Durnham. That's an order. Besides, _you_ let Sam escape. It falls to you to report it in."

"But how could I even stop him? Sam is not a prisoner. He's free to do what he wants, right?"

Luigi and Monroe gave their young comrade a telling look.

"Try explaining that to the General," said Monroe. "Stop whining, kid. Man up and make that call already."

Grumbling, Gerry took out his phone and started dialing. "We are in deep, _deep_ shit!"

**TBC…**

* * *

**I need to go feed the hungry Bunnies now. ^_^  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah, I know I'm taking my own sweet time updating this fic. But don't blame me. Blame it on Jim Butcher for producing such a wonderful book! I enjoy his latest creation (**_**Harry Dresden: Cold Days**_**) so much that I have a hard time putting it down to write my own story. God, the book is awesome!**

**Anyway, here's a new chapter.**

* * *

The water was so frigid it took Sam's breath away upon impact.

Panic seized him instantly, and he had to fight hard against the urge to swim to surface for air. It was important to remain undetected so he stayed underwater, letting himself being carried further downstream away from the group of men that had been assigned to protect him.

By the time he thought the coast was clear, that he could no longer be seen, his lungs were close to bursting. He frantically broke to surface, taking huge gulps of oxygen before he was tugged back under by the strong current, which was choppy and rolling like rapids. He swallowed some icy water, choking him in the process. Undeterred, he rose again, not giving too much fight this time. Swimming had never been his strongest suit anyway. So he just let his natural buoyancy take control as he floated with the flow.

He couldn't exactly tell how much time had passed since his jump off the bridge. It could not be more than ten minutes, but he decided it had been long enough when he began to lose the feel to his extremities. He needed to get out of the water before hypothermia set in.

Stroke after stroke, he steadily swam for shore. It was harder than he expected, what with his heavy frozen limbs and the strong undertow. Somehow he managed to grab a fistful of overhanging brambles that grew along the riverbank. He held on for dear life, taking a breather for several moments before pulling himself up and out of the water. Grunting with the effort, he crawled on all fours up the embankment before collapsing onto his back, completely winded.

As he panted with exertion, he stared up at the heavens with great wonderment. What a beautiful night it was. The moon was out early and the stars were shining bright, strewn across the dark velvet of the universe like glittering diamonds. Even as he watched, a meteoroid shot across the sky in its burning intensity. He smiled as he recalled the last time he had seen one with Jules when they went out for dinner just a month ago.

"Oh, look! A shooting star!" she had exclaimed and quickly closed her eyes, her hands clasped close to her heart. She had looked so sweet and cute then, almost childlike.

When Sam asked her what she had wished for, Jules replied, "My wish is that we would grow old together with a gaggle of grandchildren bouncing on our knees!"

He had laughed in response and yanked her into his embrace, kissing her silly. "That's my wish too!"

Sam's smile slowly disappeared when realization dawned. Team One was gone. Jules was gone. She had died, taking her wish—and his—along with her.

That was the final straw. The pain from his loss was too great he thought he could hear his heart breaking. Curling himself into a ball, he broke down and let the tears come, his sobbing cries a pitiful duet to the singing crickets around him.

Almost like an eternity later, Sam's tears finally ran dry. He felt thoroughly spent, hollow with no more emotions. He was brought aware to his physical condition. Clad in his sodden clothes, his entire body was shaking hard from the cold. That would not do. He must get to his feet and start moving to gather some warmth. Sitting still would not do him any good.

Besides, he had a personal mission to accomplish.

Stoically, he pushed himself up. The wound to his injured thigh screamed with agony. He might have made it worse with that jump, but he couldn't worry about it right now. Crossing his arms around his upper torso, he limped forward, leaning heavily against tree trunks for balance as he made his way into the dark with only the moonlight to illuminate his path.

He kept the water to his left while he trudged further along downstream. For the time being, he didn't worry much about his bearings. There was always the constellation in the sky to guide him. He knew which way was north or east just by looking at the stars. His main aim was to find signs of civilization as fast as he possibly could, which meant he must get himself to a public road. _Any_ road. The river would intersect with one eventually. Moreover, that particular surrounding area was not really isolated. He believed that he was not far from the neighboring suburbs. In due course he would find people, transport and a payphone. Not necessarily in that order.

As he walked, Sam could clearly imagine how his father would react to his sudden escape.

_The General must be throwing fits_, he thought with amusement, but quickly sobered as he figured what his father would do next.

Sam carried a tracking chip in his upper back, right between the shoulder blades. It had been discreetly planted there years ago when he was about to join the military. He had been out cold during the procedure, drugged by his own father. He had only recently found it out when Braddock senior broke it to him prior to _Operation Virus_, the black ops mission which Sam had participated to flush out General Morrell into the open, disclosing him as a national traitor.

Knowing his father, Sam was certain that the General had already ordered his specialized technical team to trace the signal. Sam had to get rid of the tracking chip straightaway before they could pinpoint his exact location. For that, he needed help. And he already had someone in mind to do it, someone he could trust that nobody would suspect.

Soon afterwards, Sam could hear the droning engine of motor vehicles driving past. Surely there was a road nearby. Encouraged by this, he walked a bit faster towards the direction of the sound, causing more pain to his wounded leg, to which he ignored. He couldn't afford to lose precious time by favoring his injury. He had to hurry.

Shoving low branches out of his face and thrusting against the bushes, he eventually saw lights. Slightly dim at first, but grew brighter as he got closer. He quickened his pace and his limp became even more pronounced. Almost abruptly, he stumbled out of the woods and found himself standing by the side of a two-lane road. Traffic was not heavy, with the occasional cars and trucks passing by. That was fine by him.

Sam looked down at himself and grimaced. He was still soaking wet. That could be a deterrent. Not many drivers would dare to give ride to a hitch-hiker in such a bedraggled condition, but he had to try. Facing the oncoming traffic, he put out an arm and started waving his thumb.

A sedan drove by, followed by another sedan. Both vehicles didn't stop. The drivers didn't even give him a second glance. However, the third time's always a charm. A pickup truck came chugging down the road before braking to a halt beside him.

The old man who sat behind the wheel kindly asked, "Need a ride, son?"

Sam grinned in reply. "Yes, sir."

"Well, hop in then."

"Thank you, sir." Without further invitation, Sam pulled open the door and climbed up. His right foot had not even cleared the ground when the truck began to move.

"So, where are you heading?" the driver asked as he roughly changed gears.

Sam managed not to wince at the irritating grating sounds. "Um…actually I'm looking for a payphone. I need to call a friend."

"Hey, I have a cellphone. You can use it."

"No, that's okay. I don't want to impose on you further. Is there a gas station nearby?"

"Yeah. Another mile up ahead. Want me to drop you there?"

"That would be great. I can call my friend from there and he can come pick me up."

"Okay." The old man eyed him up and down before turning his focus back to the road. "What the hell happened to you, kid? You look like a wet rat!"

"I got into a fight with my girlfriend," Sam smoothly explained with a roll of his eyes. "I pissed her off and she pushed me into a swimming pool during a party at a friend's house. On our way drive home, we fought some more and she kicked me out of her car. Now here I am. My bad."

"Youngsters these days," the driver said, his head shaking. "They just don't know how to appreciate the people they care for. You should make it up to her, son. Tell her you're sorry."

Sam had to swallow hard before responding, "Yeah. I'll do that."

His eyes stinging with sudden tears, Sam dragged his gaze out the window. He thought of Jules, of Team One, the people he had lost. He had to agree with the old man. He had not appreciated them enough. He just realized how empty his life had become with his entire team gone.

_I will make it up to them_, Sam swore. _Morell will pay for what he did._

"Alright. Here we are." The truck pulled over in front of a chain gas station minutes later. Turning to Sam, the old man asked, "You're sure you don't want me to drive you straight home, son?"

"No, I'll be alright. Thank you for asking." Sam smiled, getting out. "And thanks again for the ride. Much appreciated."

"Okay. Take care of yourself, kid."

"You bet."

As the truck disappeared down the road, Sam turned and staggered towards the station. He went straight for the row of payphones at the west wall outside the main building. Typically, two of them were out of order. But the third one had a strong dial tone. He took out his sodden wallet, which had miraculously stayed inside the pocket of his jeans despite the jump and the rough swim. Finding a quarter, he dropped it down the slot before punching the numbers by memory.

The call was instantly picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Doc."

"Uh…who is this?"

"It's me. Sam."

A slight pause, followed by, "Officer Braddock?"

"That's right."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't recognize the number."

"That's okay, Doc. I'm calling from a payphone. Sorry to disturb you, but I need your help."

"Sure, no problem. What can I do for you?"

"I mean, I need your professional help."

"Wait, are you hurt?" the other man asked, sounding very concern.

"Pretty much."

"Then come on over. I'm here at my office. Or better yet, I'll meet you at the hospital—"

"No, I cannot do that. I need you to come to me."

A longer pause this time. "Sam, are you in trouble?"

"Yeah. Looks like it."

"Okay, just tell me where you are. I'll come and get you."

Referring to the gas station address tag stickered to the wall atop the phone box, Sam read the details out loud. "You know where that is?"

"Valley View Road, London? Sure, I think so. I'll key it in into my GPS, just in case. But that would take me at least two hours to get there."

"That's fine. I'll wait here."

"Sit tight. I'll be there soon."

"Drive safely, Doc."

"I will."

Sam hung up and went into the restroom. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, and was aghast to see the haunted expression on his face. He looked pale and haggard, his wet clothes clinging to him like rags. He could not enter the gas station looking like this. The management might send him out on his ass, thinking he was a tramp. Or worse, an armed robber.

After washing his face and using the loo, Sam stepped out and stumbled towards a clump of bushes near the station. He walked yards deeper until he was fully concealed before he dropped down onto the ground, his back against the trunk of a small tree. From where he sat, he had full vantage of the entrance to the gas station. He could see every vehicle pulling in.

Wrapping his arms around his trembling frame, Sam resigned himself for a long wait.

* * *

Jason Alston M.D. zipped down the highway in his Audi as close to speed limit as he dared. He could not afford to be pulled over by the highway patrol, not tonight. Although Sam had not mentioned it, the young surgeon had heard the grave urgency in the other man's voice. Obviously, Sam needed help. And time was of the essence.

Jason had not known the SRU officer very long. They first crossed paths just over two weeks ago, when Sam had jumped into a van to assist the doctor in stabilizing a boy who suffered from a gunshot wound. And then the boy's father, a drug courier named Brandon Rogan, had taken them both captives. Rogan had driven them all to a vet clinic at a racecourse outside of town where they soon got caught in the middle of a firefight. Without a care to his own life, Sam had bravely faced the hostiles, armed with only an MP5 and limited ammo so that Jason could escape unscathed.

Constable Sam Braddock had saved his life that day, and Jason would be forever grateful. Sam also frequently called him to check on the injured boy whom Jason later adopted. Clearly, the tough cop had a soft spot for the kid he had helped saved, concerned to know how he fared with Jason's family. Gradually, a bond of friendship began to form between the two men.

As Sam was now in trouble, Jason felt it was his turn to return the favor.

It took him precisely two hours to reach London. Following the instructions of his car GPS, Jason drove further north until he found the gas station. He pulled over to the curb and quickly looked around but saw no signs of Sam. He was about to step out of his car when the passenger door was suddenly wrenched open and Sam clambered inside.

At the sight of the disheveled looking cop, the doctor couldn't help but gape in surprise. "Jeez, Sam. What happened to you?"

Sam managed a weak smile. "Long story, Doc. I'll tell you all about it later but we have to get moving."

"Sure. But where are we going?"

"We need to find a place where you can do a minor surgery on me."

The doctor eyed Sam up and down. "A minor surgery, huh?"

"Well, more like an incision."

"I think I know a place. I saw a motel on my way over. We can get a room with a clean bed and decent light. Is that okay?"

Sam nodded, leaning back into the seat with a sigh of relief. "Yes, that would be fine. Thanks, Doc."

"Don't thank me yet, officer. As a medical practitioner, I can use my rights to veto and drag you to a hospital for proper treatment." Jason released the brake and made a tight U-turn before driving back towards where he came from. "But I understand you have valid reasons for all the secrecy."

With his eyes closed, Sam softly chuckled without further comments.

The doctor frowned when he noticed Sam shivering. He turned the heater up a notch. "You're freezing, Sam. There's a jacket in the backseat. Grab it and wrap it around you."

Sam wanted to protest. But a stern look from the doctor shut him up and so he reached for the said jacket, which was made of rich black leather. "You'll get on famously with my Dad, Doc."

Jason grinned. "Really? He's also smart like me?"

"No. You two love to order people around."

The doctor laughed out loud to that. No more conversation ensued during the rest of the journey. Sam started to nod off due to sheer exhaustion, while Jason was concentrating hard on the road so as not to miss the turnoff to the motel. Shortly after, Sam was shaken awake.

"Hey, we're here."

Sam stared at the blatant _vacancy_ sign of the motel. From outside, the two-storey building looked somewhat shabby. "Charming."

"Wait here. I'll go to the front desk and grab us a room."

Sam didn't have to wait long. Jason returned to the car minutes later, and drove to the lot at the very end. They both got out, with Sam slightly swaying on his feet. After grabbing his medical bag from the backseat, Jason hurried over to Sam.

"Let's get you inside before you collapse out here." Jason threw a supporting arm around Sam's back, leading the way to the assigned room. He turned the key and they got in, shutting the door behind them.

Jason switched on the lights and nodded approvingly at the small but neat room. "This will do."

"I guess." Sam casually shrugged. He limped to the bed and sat down hard.

"So, what's the story here, Sam? What's going on?"

Looking up at the doctor, Sam replied, "I'm being hunted."

Jason's eyes widened. "By the authorities?"

"You could say that."

"Uh…have you done something wrong?"

Sam smiled. "I just escaped a protective custody. But don't worry, Doc. I'm not committing a felony. You're not involved in any crime whatsoever."

"Okay. But I still don't get it. How exactly do you want me to help you?"

Sighing, Sam took off the jacket before removing the damp pullover he wore underneath. He showed the doctor his back. "See it?"

Jason frowned. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Between my shoulder blades, a little to the right. Notice that slight bump under the skin?"

The doctor stared harder. "Yeah, I see it. Doesn't look painful, though. What is it?"

"A GPS tracking chip."

"A what?" Jason exclaimed. "A GPS tracking chip you say? Like in the _Bourne_ movies?"

"That's right."

"Is it a requirement for all cops to have a tracking chip implant nowadays, or is it just the SRUs?"

"Actually, my father put it there."

There was a shocked silence from the doctor. "Your father? _He_ did this?"

"He's an army General. This is his way to keep an eye on his kids, on me especially."

Jason shook his head, still astonished. "You must be quite a handful then."

Sam just laughed. "Can you remove it?"

"Of course. But are you sure?"

"Yes, I want it out. That's the reason why I called you. I can't do it myself and I trust no one else to do it."

"What about your team?"

At this, a shadow fell over Sam's face. "My team is dead."

Jason gasped. "_Dead_?"

Looking away, Sam explained in a low voice, "They all perished…yesterday. There was a bomb…it was a trap. I'm the only one who survived."

Pale and shaken, Jason sat down next to him. "My God, Sam. I'm so sorry to hear that."

Sam nodded, staring through unshed tears at his clenched fists. "Now I'm on the run. Not only from the people who want to kill me, but also from my Dad. He will not approve what I'm about to do."

Turning back to Jason, Sam asked, "So, Doc, will you help me?"

Giving Sam's shoulder a consoling squeeze, the doctor nodded. "I'm here, aren't I? Let's get started then."

* * *

"How are you going to dispose that thing? It's still active, right?" Jason asked as they drove away from the motel an hour later.

"Yeah, it's still transmitting." Holding the tracking chip between two fingers, Sam observed it closely. The device was in the shape of a tiny cylinder, slim and weightless. A powerful beacon despite its slight size.

The young surgeon had deftly made an incision on Sam's back before tugging the chip out without any complications. Afterwards Jason had inspected the wound on Sam's thigh, mending some of the broken stitches and redressing it.

When the doctor offered him a couple of painkillers, Sam had declined them at first. "I need to keep a clear head."

"You're hurting and sooner or later it will affect your judgment. You're also running on empty. If you collapse, you'll have troubles getting back up. So take them, Sam," Jason had cajoled. "They won't make you drowsy or anything, but will help keep the pain at bay. I'm a doctor, I know."

So Sam had washed them down with a bottle of mineral water. He was glad he had taken the doctor's advice. The pain was still there, but not as intense as before.

"Hey, Doc. Have you seen the latest _Bourne _movie?"

Jason glanced back. "You mean _The Bourne Legacy_? The one with that Renner guy?"

"Yep, that's the one."

"Wait, you're not going to get a wolf to swallow the chip down, are you?"

Sam grinned. "No, I don't need a wolf for that."

"What then?"

"Get us to the nearest truck stop. There's one at the freeway."

"Yeah, I know the one that you mean. But why? _Oh_."

"Exactly."

With Jason's proficient driving, it didn't take them long to get there. He pulled over into the vast parking lot, next to an eighteen wheeler.

Sam turned to the doctor and said, "This is it, Jason. This is where I need to go off on my own."

"_Here_? But I can drive you back to town," Jason protested.

"You have done more than enough. Besides, this is my fight. I don't want to put you in danger."

"But you put yourself in danger for me. You saved my life."

"That was different. I was on the job."

"I'm on the job too, damn it. I'm your doctor and I protect my patient. Don't tell me otherwise."

Smiling, Sam said, "Does that mean I'm entitled to doctor-patient privilege?"

"Of course, but you need to pay for a retainer first."

"How much is the retainer fee of a brilliant and sought after surgeon these days?"

"For you, one dollar."

Laughing, Sam produced his wallet and took out a wet dollar bill. He gave it to Jason. "Here you are, Doc. How much do I owe you for the motel room?"

"Forget about it. Look, Sam. I can help."

"Jason, you've already helped me more than you should. I need to do this alone. I'm dealing with dangerous people with real guns, even explosives. You can't get involve any further. You have a family to think of."

The doctor sighed, resigned with the fact that Sam would not change his mind. "Okay. Do you need cash, or some dry clothes perhaps?"

"I'm good. Thanks for lending me your jacket. I'll return it soon," Sam said, hugging the expensive leather jacket tighter around his body.

"Nah, keep it. It looks better on you anyway," Jason dryly responded. "Don't forget to tell me how it goes when this is all over, okay?"

"Sure, I'll do that. Thanks again for…for everything that you've done for me tonight, Dr. Alston."

"That doesn't even come close to what you have done for me, Officer Braddock."

With a last smile, Sam got out of the car and disappeared into the dark.

* * *

"He _what_?"

Team One gaped at the intercom which sat atop the briefing room table upon hearing General Braddock's latest announcement.

On the other end of the line, Sam's father sighed. "You all heard me. Sam managed to escape our watch last night. He stepped out of the transit car before jumping off the bridge into a river. We've never seen him since."

For several heartbeats, no one spoke.

And then Ed broke into uncontrollable laughter. He laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair. Sergeant Parker gave him a pointed look, but that only caused the team leader to laugh all the harder, until Spike couldn't stand it and laughed along with him.

"Are you done, Mr. Lane?" Braddock senior finally asked, sounding real annoyed.

Wiping the tears off his eyes, Ed wheezed. "Sorry about that, General, but…Sam escaped? You're not joking, are you?

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

"Certainly not." Ed took a deep breath as he tried to pull himself together. "Guess what? I am not surprised. This is _so_ like Sam. We should have foreseen this."

"Absolutely. Sam_tas_tic," Spike agreed, nudging Jules next to him with a big grin. His smile faded when he noticed the great anxiety written all over her features. "Relax, Jules. Sam is gonna be okay. He can take care of himself."

"What makes you so sure?" she retorted. "He's hurt, he's alone. And he thinks we are all dead. Clearly he's not thinking straight."

"And yet he still managed to outwit a team of skillful armed guards," Parker reverently remarked with a shake of his head. "So, General, what's the current status? Have you any idea where Sam could be running off to?"

"We are still looking, Sergeant."

"Can't you trace his position through the tracking chip in his back?"

A short pause before Braddock senior hesitantly replied, "Ye-ah, about that..."

"What about it?"

"The tracking chip has been…uh…compromised."

Ed frowned. "What do you mean, compromised?"

"My technical people has kept track on Sam's movements soon after the report of his getaway came in. We only managed to send out a special-task team to intercept the signal hours after his escape. The signal was being transmitted from a big truck laden with computer supplies that was heading south towards the border. However, Sam was not on it."

Team One exchanged startled looks with one another.

"Sam wasn't there but his signal was? How could that be possible?" Spike wondered out loud.

"After a thorough search, my team found the tracking chip hidden beneath the truck, stuck to the undercarriage with a Band-Aid."

"Wait, are you saying that—"

"Yes, Sergeant. Somehow Sam managed to remove the chip from his back before he planted it onto the truck, throwing us into a wild-goose chase the entire night. He could be anywhere by now."

Parker was trying hard not to laugh out loud. Despite everything, he found the situation highly amusing. "Sam is…well, he is indeed very…um…resourceful."

"Yes, he is. Unfortunately," the General groused.

"You've trained him well. Too well, in fact."

"I can tell that you're smiling, Parker. But trust me, this is no laughing matter."

"Of course not, General. Tell us then, how do you want us to help?"

"I'm actually calling to find out if you knew where Sam might have gone for aid. He wouldn't be able to remove that chip on his own. Someone helped him."

Jules nodded, looking thoughtful. "I think you're right."

"But who could have been helping him?" Spike wondered out loud.

"That's for you and your team to figure out, Mr. Scarlatti. You guys know him best."

"I thought _you_ know him best, General," said Ed. "Sam is your son after all."

Braddock couldn't help but sigh again. "That's why this worries me terribly. I know exactly what he's capable of doing."

"Your meaning, sir?"

"This is the time when Sam is most dangerous. Because he now feels he has nothing to lose," Braddock grimly said.

"I don't think Sam will cross the line, sir," Jules pointed out. "He's a cop."

"Yes, but Sam is a trained soldier first. Not only that, he has also been trained to kill," the General replied in a quiet voice. "I believe Sam bolted so that he can find Morrell before we do. He's going to assassinate that son of a bitch."

Looking serious, Sergeant Parker leaned forward and said, "Then let's find Sam fast before that happens."

Turning towards the window, gazing out at the beginning of a beautiful sunny day, Jules had to stifle her sobs.

_Oh, Sammy. Where the hell are you?_

**TBC…**

* * *

**That's right, guys. Jason Alston is the doctor that Sam saved in the Season 5 episode 'No Kind Of Life'. He's kinda cute, even without a cleft in his chin. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi, there. I'm sorry. So very sorry for the long wait. So sorry, guys. Now I'm back for a short stint. I promise to try finish this fic by July. **

**Anyway, carry on. Start reading and enjoy or suffer or…whatever. He he...**

* * *

As Team One pondered over the shocking updates recently delivered by the General, their missing teammate—the main subject matter—was at the moment emerging from the Union Station Bus Terminal downtown. A backpack now slung over one shoulder, Sam Braddock walked unhurriedly among the morning crowd.

After Dr. Alston had dropped him off at the truck stop in London, Sam had hitched a ride back to Toronto with a pet food delivery van. Upon reaching the city proper at the break of dawn, he directly went to empty his locker at the bus station.

He had been renting the locker under a false name since his return home after leaving the field. A longtime habit hard to drop. As an ex-member of an elite military force which had thrown him into classified deadly missions on foreign soils, Sam couldn't help but anticipate that the enemies from his past might come back to bite him in the ass. It didn't hurt to prepare to be on the run. Inside the locker he had stashed a backpack filled with changes of clothes, some cash, and a small arsenal of firearm.

No one knew about the locker, not even Jules or his father. It was a secret Sam kept to himself.

He spent quite some time inside the washroom to freshen up and change his clothes. Wearing a new pair of jeans and dark t-shirt under the leather jacket loaned by Alston, he jammed a beanie hat over his head to cover his trademark blonde locks. At first glimpse he would be hard to recognize, what with the constant limp that grew more pronounced with each step, causing him to slouch a bit and slightly altering his stature. The painkiller he had taken hours earlier was beginning to wear off but he refused to take another dose. He wanted to stay focus, and the pain in his body was a good incentive to keep him wide awake. It was also a burning reminder of those people he had lost, the deaths he aimed to avenge.

He had not walked far from the bus station, just over two blocks, when he stopped in front of a 24-hours cyber café. He walked in, registered himself as 'Eddie Parker' at the front desk, and went to choose a station at the most secluded spot in one corner.

His face grim with resolve, Sam sat down and started to get busy with the first phase of his plan for revenge.

* * *

"Whoa, what the hell?" Spike exclaimed, glaring at his laptop screen.

His teammates turned to stare at him in bewilderment. "What's wrong, Spike?"

Red-faced from anger, the computer expert replied, "Ah…nothing really, but… somebody just stole my personal ID."

Sergeant Parker deeply frowned. Team One was in the middle of a discussion about Sam's possible 'accomplice', and yet so far they had no idea who that might be. If General Braddock had spoken the truth about his son, then Sam was hell bent on seeking retribution. He must be found fast before he could commit cold-blooded murder. The team had not the luxury to be distracted by other mundane things.

"Spike, this is not the time…"

"I know, Boss. I know." Spike vigorously nodded, his fingers moving in a blur across the keyboard. "But this is very unusual. It's my ID to the password-cracking software which I subscribed."

"How did you realize someone has stolen your ID?" Parker wanted to know, despite himself.

"I logged in just now so that I can use the software to…uh…you know, break into Sam's personal emails to find out if he's contacting anybody. But I'm told that my ID is being used, right as we speak."

Ed moved closer to watch over Spike's shoulder. "Can you trace the user?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing. Give me a sec." Concentrating on his task, Spike pulled up pages after pages of tracing applications only he understood. To others, it looked like utter gibberish, but they had faith in his skills. Spike Scarlatti was not called a tech-wizard for nothing.

Glancing at his watch, Parker sighed and said, "Spike."

"One moment, Boss." Spike then exalted in triumph, "Yes! Gotcha!"

"You got it?" Jules asked with a smile, sharing his teammate's obvious joy.

"I sure did." Spike beamed from ear to ear. He pointed at the screen. "This is where it's coming from. A cyber café at Bay Street."

"That's good. But what are you gonna do about it?" asked Ed, amused. "Sent down some unis to apprehend the guy?"

Spike seriously nodded. "Sure, why not? This ID thief is a menace. Why won't he use his own ID? What's the big deal that he has to steal mine?"

All of a sudden Spike froze with a peculiar look on his face, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open. "Son of a bitch…"

"Spike? _Now _what's got into you?" Parker asked, puzzled.

"It's him," Spike muttered, still shocked.

"Who?" Parker was clearly baffled, as was the rest of the team.

"Sam. This is his doing, I'm sure of it!" was Spike's response. He was back to attacking the keyboard with renewed vigor.

"_Sam_?" Surprised, Jules gave her teammate a sharp stare. "What do you mean, it's Sam?"

"Look, I've been giving Sam a few classes on special software, including the password-cracker."

Ed shot Spike a funny look. "What, you're a teacher now?"

"Hey, he really wants to learn, okay?" Spike protested, "Besides, you have any idea how hard it is to say _no_ to him? Anyway, he's a fast learner. I guess he has become my apprentice. Sort of."

"You're certain he's the one using your ID? It could be anybody, Spike."

"Ed, I'm very sure this is Sam's work. I can feel it in my bones. Firstly, the timing is just right. Secondly, I never revealed my ID or password to _any_one. But Sam was around a few times when I accessed the software. He might have closely observed when I logged in. With those sharp eyes of his, he doesn't miss much." Spike paused and looked up, looking real sheepish. "I've created a monster, haven't I?"

Amused, Parker patted him on the back. "It's good that you have, or we still do not know where he is."

"This brought us back to my previous question," said Ed. "Should we send over the unis to apprehend him? Or should we go down there ourselves?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Spike hastily said. "He thinks we're dead, remember?"

Chagrinned, they looked at one another.

"Right. Scratch that," Ed agreed. "Seeing us in the flesh will only freak him out all the worse."

"But seeing us alive might stop him from seeking revenge altogether. Because there's actually nothing to avenge, right?" Jules tried to reason. She missed Sam so much and she wanted him back with Team One, where he belonged.

Parker was shaking his head. "No, this is not about avenging our supposed deaths alone, Jules. It's something more. Sam is out there on his own to make things right. He is seeking justice for everything that General Morrell has done to him, to our team, and also to his dead friend, Matt."

"Then we're just letting him be, so that he can turn executioner?" Jules shot back.

"Of course not," the Sergeant assured her, though in fact he was reassuring himself. "Jules, you know Sam better than the rest of us. He is no heartless murderer, no matter how highly trained he is in the art of killing. He is too damn strong to let his emotion control him over. Trust him on that, at least."

Closing her eyes briefly, Jules took a deep breath to compose herself. "Okay. What do you suggest we do?"

"Now we know where he is but that won't be for long," Ed said, already memorizing the address of the cyber café. "We have to find out why he's there in the first place."

"Isn't that obvious? He needs to use the computer," Jules pointed out.

"Exactly. But to do what? And why use the password-cracker software? What is he trying to break into?"

"I thought you never ask," Spike piped in with a big grin on his face. "I just went through my login history and dug deep from there. Look what I found."

Team One crowded around their teammate, who showed them the interface of an email account that appeared on screen.

Jules stared in confusion. "Whose email is that?"

"Take a guess. The address is _b_morr55_gmail_com _," announced Spike with a raise of his eyebrow.

"_b_morr_?" A smile blossomed on Ed's face. "As in, General Bernhard Morrell? This is his private email? Sam used the software to break into _this_?"

"For god's sake, _why_?" Jules mused out loud.

"To leave Morrell a message. See that Draft box?" Spike said as he pointed at the screen. "There's one in Draft. I don't think Morrell put it there. Sam did."

"Why didn't Sam just send him a direct email? Why did he go to all the trouble breaking into Morrell's account?" Parker was clearly dumbfounded.

"Emails can be easily traced, Boss," Spike replied. "Not the one in the draft folder, though. We also call it electronic 'dropbox'. Saving it as a draft will avoid creating an email trail that is easier to trace. The user has to log on to the account to view the draft emails. There are some technicalities involved, which might take me a while to explain in great details. Sorry."

"Fine. Tell me all about it later," the Sergeant replied with a roll of his eyes. "So, Sam broke into Morrell's private email account to leave an untraceable message. He aims to get Morrell's attention."

"Precisely."

Ed leaned closer. "Then let's see the message."

Without another word, Spike clicked on the Draft box to show the message,

_**I know what you want.**_

_**Let's finish this.**_

_**The citadel. **_

_**2050.**_

_**SWB**_

"Without doubt, this message _is_ from Sam. The initial is proof enough," Parker remarked, straightening up after he finished reading.

Jules looked worried. "It sounds imminent. The message indicates that Sam wants to confront Morrell and settle the matter, once and for all. This could end real badly."

"2050 could only mean the hour of the meeting, which is at eight-fifty in the evening. But the _citadel_? Where or what the hell is it?" Ed grumbled.

"I guess it's a place that only Sam and Morrell knew about," said Parker. "I'm gonna call General Braddock and tell him of this new development. He might know what the citadel means. In the meantime, I think we should all go down to the cyber café. But we keep our distance, observe only. We don't want Sam to bolt if he sees us or the unis—"

"Too late, Boss. Sam is already gone," Spike announced with a shake of his head.

"What?"

"He logged off just a couple minutes ago. I think he has already left the café."

"Ah, damn it. We were so close." The Sergeant sighed, rubbing a hand down his weary face. "Can you get access to any CCTVs in the area that will show us what's going on?"

"I'm one step ahead of you, Boss," Spike said, his fingers typing away. "This is from the traffic camera across the road, directly facing the café entrance. However the picture is a bit blurry due to the low resolution."

They all leaned closer to watch.

"Any sign of him?" Ed asked, squinting hard as traffics of people came and went at the cyber café.

"He must be long gone by now. And we don't even know which direction he took," Spike complained minutes later.

"Or maybe we've overlooked him," Jules suggested. "He could be in disguise."

At that, her teammates exchanged looks of dismay. Ed cursed under his breath. "I'm gonna shave his head bald just like mine when I catch that annoying kid!"

"Looks like we lost him again," said Parker, resigned. "Then I really need to talk to General Braddock. Hopefully he has better luck."

"Wait, I thought Morrell is under full surveillance. Don't the military monitor all his emails, including the private ones too?" Jules wondered. "Aren't they seeing this?"

The Sergeant fished out his phone and started dialing. "That's what I'm gonna find out."

At the computer, Spike tilted his head to one side, thinking. "Samuel _W_. Braddock. Hmm...What the 'W' stands for anyway?"

"Seriously? You still don't know?" Jules was surprised. "Haven't you been hacking into database files to find out?"

"Believe me, I've tried. But some type of barrier always pushes me back every time I get real close. Damn those military firewall." Spike glared in return. "What about you? Do you know?"

"Sure."

"Well, what the 'W' means? William? Wilson? Wyatt?"

Jules smirked back in response. "Nope. Can't tell you."

"_Jules_…come on."

"Or is it Woody? Warren?" Ed also joined the guessing game. "_Waldo_?"

Despite everything, Jules began to laugh. "Keep guessing, guys!"

Just then, Sergeant Parker turned back to his team after finishing his call. His face was a mixture of odd reactions.

"What did the General say, Greg?" Ed asked him.

"Well, um…" Parker cleared his throat before he emitted a chuckle. "Sam's father was real pissed that we're the one who got a breakthrough. But of course, if not for Spike's ID being used, we wouldn't have gotten anything either. And then he sounded real embarrassed when he admitted that his team has not monitored Morrell's private emails for quite some time. They will get to it ASAP."

"Did you ask him if he knew what the 'citadel' exactly means?" asked Ed.

This caused the Sergeant's smile to slowly vanish. "Yes, I did. Unfortunately, the General doesn't know what it is. Could be a bar, or a house, or anything. He truly has no idea."

"Great. There goes our only lead," Spike sighed, cradling his head in his hands.

"And there's more."

Team One stared at their Sergeant after his quiet remark.

"What are you saying, Boss?" Jules asked, biting her lower lip with great anxiety.

"The time, 2050. It doesn't really mean 8.50 pm."

Ed frowned. "What is it then? Coordinates? That doesn't seem likely, does it?"

"Not coordinates, no. It still means time, but it's in a code," said Parker. "The General explained it to me. His son has been trained not to give info forthright. If it states 2050, than you need to deduct five hours from the 2000. Which comes to—"

"1500 hours. That's three in the afternoon!" Spike exclaimed. "Damn. What time is it now?"

"Almost nine," Jules supplied, glancing at her watch.

"Then we only have six hours to find Sam," said Ed. "Not a good thing, because we don't even know where to begin."

"Hopefully Morrell has not viewed the message," Jules said, "Or he sees it but decides not to meet Sam after all."

"Let's hope that's the case, Jules. If not…" Parker shook his head.

Spike finished it for him, "Then we're totally screwed."

* * *

After leaving the cyber café, Sam walked farther down the block along Bay Street before turning around the corner into King Street. While he stood waiting at the bus stop nearby, a sudden rush of wooziness overtook him. Swaying, he made a hasty grab for the stop sign. He missed.

As if in slow motion, his body toppled over and hit the ground. Pain exploded in his injured leg, running up and down his spine to add more discomfort to his already pounding head. For a while, his vision darkened. He blinked repeatedly to stop himself from fading out.

"Hey, mister. You okay?"

Biting down his groan, Sam looked up. A couple of young teenage boys were looking down at him, slightly concerned.

"Yeah…I'm fine. Just dizzy." With great difficulty, Sam pushed himself upright. The boys helped pull him to his feet.

"Are you sure you're okay, mister? You look terribly pale," one of them pointed out.

Sam had to grin. "Actually I just got out of hospital yesterday. An accident."

"Maybe you should have stayed there a bit longer until you're completely well," the other boy said. "You don't need another accident."

_As if I had a choice_, Sam thought.

"I couldn't agree more, but I got important things to do," Sam told them. "Thanks for the help, boys. I appreciate it."

He thought they were satisfied with what he said and that they would eventually leave. He was wrong.

"Mister, you're a soldier, aren't you?" the first boy frankly asked.

Sam stared back. "What made you say that?"

"You look young but your gaze is real deep, like you've seen so much in life. My grandma would call you an old-soul."

Amused, Sam asked, "You can tell I'm a soldier by looking at my eyes?"

"That, and the gun poking out of your backpack."

Sam quickly glanced over, and sure it was. The butt of his Smith & Wesson MP45 was visible through the gap of the unzipped main compartment. He felt like slapping himself. He had forgotten to shut the backpack properly after fishing out his wallet to pay the cashier at the café counter. He must be more exhausted than he thought.

Zipping up the bag with deliberate move, Sam nodded. "You're right. I am a soldier. Special Ops. I got hurt during combat."

The eyes of the two boys grew as wide as saucers. "_Cool_!"

Chuckling, Sam replied, "Uh…not really. It's a real pain, trust me."

"I want to join the army right after I finish school," one of the boys said, echoed by his friend, "Me too!"

Sam managed a small smile. "Well, good for you. Oh, this is my bus. I gotta go. Thanks again for your help."

As his bus drove away, Sam noticed the boys were eagerly waving at him. He waved back. He then settled against the seat and grew thoughtful.

_Old soul, am I?_

He shrugged.

_A wounded soul is more like it. _

Throwing his gaze out the window, he had to battle with sudden tears. _No. Make that an empty soul. For I have nothing left. Not a single thing…_

Sam got off at a bus-stop several blocks away before boarding another city bus. He repeated the routine twice more with two different buses, moving constantly all over the city. Lastly, he took a cab to the 'citadel'.

His final destination.

* * *

**TBC…**

**Not long now. Only two chapters left!**


	5. Chapter 5

**We're getting closer to the finale. Read on, guys.**

* * *

"_Eddie Parker_?" The Sergeant shared amused looks with Ed as they perused the customer register at the Bay Street cyber café.

"Not only he stole Spike's ID," Ed said with a grin, "He stole our names too!"

Jules overhead the exchange and couldn't resist pointing out, "Clearly Sam is overwrought."

Both men looked at her. "How can you tell?"

"Isn't it obvious? Sam used your names when he could have chosen million others. He loves you guys. Thinking that you're dead, he's missing you terribly. And that hurts him so…" she explained, her voice breaking at the end.

Ed sobered up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a brief comforting squeeze. "We'll find him, Jules. Mark my words."

"Indeed we will. Just don't give up hope yet," Parker agreed. "That's why we're here, to trace his steps. Sam is not gonna disappear from us that easily."

Team One had arrived at the cyber café just minutes ago. To track their missing teammate, they had to start at least somewhere. And the cyber café was the only available lead so far. While the others asked around at the front counter, Spike had headed straight towards the clusters of computers, checking the IPs and such.

Holding up the register, Parker turned towards one of the café staffs and asked her, "This guy who checked-in here as Eddie Parker, you remember how he looks like?"

"Umm…sorry. I can't recall," the young lady apologetically responded. "We have quite a crowd this morning. Too many faces to remember."

"But we did jot down the number of the station he used. Common practice," her colleague, a guy with a long ponytail then added. "Here, let me see. Ah, yes. Eddie Parker sat at station number eleven."

"Where is it?"

But Spike was much faster.

"Over here, Boss," the team's tech wizard announced from the back of the room, his arm waving. He managed to match the IP on his tracker to the computer that Sam had used.

"That's good," Ed remarked. "It would be even better if we could view the tape from the CCTV showing that particular station."

"No problem. Give me a moment," said the pony-tailed guy as he pulled up the premise's security system through his computer. "From which time you need? Thirty minutes ago?"

"Yes, that's about it." Ed, Jules and Parker moved closer to watch.

"Eddie Parker was at station eleven from 8.25 to 8.50," the male staff explained. "Camera 3 has full view of him, but only from behind. Check it out."

Ed frowned. "Can't see his face. Not sure if it's really Sam. That beanie hat is a very good camouflage."

"Yeah." Parker turned to Jules. "What do _you_ think? Is it him?"

She was still staring hard when the figure in the screen finally rose to his feet and left the station, moving out of frame. "He limps."

"_Jules_?"

"Go backward," she told the pony-tailed guy, who instantly obeyed.

"See that? He's limping on one leg." Jules pointed out with earnest. "Sam got wounded in his thigh from the blast shrapnel. It _is_ him, no doubt about it!"

"Fine, it's Sam. But where did he vanish to?"

"I'll take it from here," Spike declared, rushing over to the counter to claim the computer.

The male staff watched in awe as Spike easily got access to the city's traffic camera network. "Far out! You can actually do that from _here_?"

"Absolutely." Spike paused to give him a pointed look. "Don't even think of attempting this on your own, buddy. You're not authorized."

The guy hastily raised his hands. "Hey, sure, man. Won't happen. The notion never crosses my mind, scout's honor."

Spike scoffed. Though he doubted Mr. Pony Tail had ever been a boy scout in his life, he believed the guy would stick to his promise. After a few more keystrokes, the monitor screen was split into four, showing the streets outside the café from different angle.

"That is Sam at the exit, coming out. What an ugly looking beanie. Didn't know he has the gut to get caught wearing one," Spike commented.

"I'll burn it the sooner I get my hands on it," Jules muttered under her breath, causing her teammates to stifle their smiles.

Using various other cameras, Spike traced Sam's progress from there. "Look. He turned into King Street."

"You still have camera feed? Try not to lose him, Spike," Parker said.

"No problem, Boss."

They continued to watch closely as Sam headed further down the block before pulling up at a bus stop. They grew alarmed when their teammate suddenly swayed and collapsed to the ground.

"Oh, no…" Jules covered her mouth in dismay, her face pale. "He's really not well."

"Sam is truly pushing his limits," Parker remarked with concern. "I'm not sure if he can go far in that condition."

"But this is Sam we're talking about," Ed interjected. "He's not gonna stop. He's too stubborn to let an injury stand in his way."

"Like a mule," Jules bit out angrily. "Stubborn, stupid and making an ass of himself about it. Ah, see? He's making friends now, how about that?"

On the screen, two young teenagers were helping Sam back to his feet. Their faces were not clear, but the boys would be easily identified by the same light green windbreakers they wore. They struck up a conversation with Sam for a full minute before he boarded a bus. Spike tried to capture the bus number but it was out of frame.

"The two boys might know where Sam is headed. If only we could find them," said Ed.

"Uh…you mean, _those _two boys?" said the female staff, pointing at a couple of teenagers sitting together in a slightly secluded corner, playing computer games. With their backs to the room and headphones covering their ears, the boys were totally oblivious to their surroundings. They didn't even realize it when Team One came to approach, until Ed tapped them both on their shoulders.

The kids turned around and their jaws simultaneously dropped, completely freaked out of their wits to see a group of elite officers of the law staring back at them.

"Holy crap." Leaping to their feet, they jumped over each other to explain.

"We're not playing hookie!" one boy explained.

"The school is out because the main water pipe burst!" his friend added.

"It's flooded."

"Totally flooded. Puddles everywhere—"

"Boys, boys!" Ed had to raise his voice until the two quieted down. "Listen, we're not here for you. The truth is, we need your help."

They blinked. "_Our_ help?"

"Yeah. Come this way." With a hand on each boy's back, Ed steered them towards the monitor screen at the front desk. "There, the guy wearing the beanie hat and carrying the backpack. You met him just now?"

The boys looked at each other. "That's the soldier guy!"

Parker raised an eyebrow. "The _soldier_ guy?"

"That's right. He wasn't looking so hot. He got hurt in combat, he said," the boy, the shorter one, clarified.

With a kind smile, Sergeant Parker asked them, "What's your name, son?"

"I'm Jamie and this is my buddy, Lance."

"Alright. Jamie and Lance. This is very important. What else did the soldier guy told you?"

The boys responded with a wary look, "Why do you wanna know?"

"We just need to find this guy real fast. He's in danger."

"But he's a soldier. Isn't he supposed to be able to take care of himself?" said Jamie. "Besides, he has a gun."

"A _gun_?"

At Team One's collective exclamation, Jamie and Lance took a cautious step back. "We saw it sticking out of his backpack. What's wrong? Is he a bad guy?"

"No, he's not a bad guy. He really needs our help, though," Jules assured them. "Did he tell you where he was going?"

Both boys shook their heads. "No."

"The bus that he took, what number was it?"

Jamie couldn't remember, but Lance somehow did. He told Jules the number. "I think the bus goes to the City Hall."

"Yes, it does." Turning to the others, Jules mused, "City Hall? Could it be 'citadel'?"

"Doesn't seem likely. Too blatantly obvious," Parker said. He focused his attention back to Jamie and Lance. "Now, boys. Think hard. Did he say anything else to you, anything at all?"

"Well…" Jamie bit his lower lip as he tried to recall. "He did say he got important things to do."

"That's it? He didn't mention what it was?"

"No. Sorry."

"That's alright. You two have been a big help." Parker then gave them a stern look. "Truly? Your school is flooded and you're not just playing hookie?"

"It's the truth, we swear it!" the boys quickly claimed.

"Okay. I believe you. However, it's a whole lot better if you guys head to the public library and read some books, don't you think? Do something worthwhile."

"Yes, of course. We're heading there right now."

The team watched in amusement as the two boys paid their fee at the counter before leaving the café at a run.

"Kids these days." Ed was shaking his head. "When I was their age, playing hookie means sneaking into the movies to see a matinee or going fishing in the woods."

"Times are a changing," was Parker's droll remark. "Right. Back to Sam. So, he has a gun."

"No surprises there. Sam is ex-Special Forces. Those type of military guys always have backup firearm hidden somewhere," said Ed.

"So what are we to do next? Should we go to the City Hall to search for him?" Jules asked, getting highly frustrated from standing around and doing nothing.

"There's no point wasting our time there," Ed said.

"Time _is_ wasting here," she retorted. "We've got to move now, before his trail gets cold!"

"Sorry to say this, Jules. But we've come to a dead end," Spike announced. "I got the general idea what Sam was actually trying to do by boarding that bus. He was shaking any tails following him."

"I think you're right, Spike," Ed agreed. "Most possibly Sam got off at various stops before boarding other buses at random. Sam and I used to have discussions about military surveillance. Bus-hopping is one of the effective techniques to lose a shadow."

"He knew sooner or later someone would be able to trace him back to the computer he just used, and so he hid his tracks." Parker nodded as he understood. "Smart move, bad news for us."

Jules shut her eyes with a groan. "So we've lost him. We've totally lost him."

"Don't give up yet, Jules," Spike said as he fished out his cellphone. "We still have one last hope. Let's talk to his closest relative."

Parker was dubious. "But I've already talked to him, Spike. General Braddock doesn't even know what the citadel is."

"I wasn't talking about Sam's father, Boss."

Jules' face lit up when she realized whom Spike had in mind. "His sister."

"Yep."

"You think she knows?"

"Sam is very protective of Nat, and vice versa. They confide everything to each other," Spike said, already dialing. "Trust me. If there is one person who knows Sam's every deep dark secret, it would be her."

* * *

Sam hitched the backpack higher up his shoulder and paused. He raised his gaze, taking in the view of the decrepit building looming in front of him in deep melancholy, his feelings a mixture of sadness and regret and resolve.

_This is it_, he thought. _This is where we'll make our final stand._

The cab driver who dropped him off at the turn into the driveway had given him funny looks. "You're sure this is where you wanna go?"

"I'm sure."

Looking even more worried, the cab driver had said, "That building has stood empty for years."

"I know."

"The authority owns it now. You might get caught trespassing."

Sam just smiled. "That's the general idea."

Puzzled, the cab driver shook his head and turned his vehicle around. "Okay. Suit yourself. Just don't do anything stupid."

"Too late for the advice, buddy. Stupid is what got me into this mess in the first place," Sam muttered to himself as he resumed walking until he stopped in front of the wire-mesh gate. It was old and rusty, barely hanging to the steel fence that bordered the property. An equally rusty padlock kept the gate firmly shut. Not a big problem for him. Sam picked up a sizable rock and smashed it against the padlock. He managed to break it in just one attempt.

The gate made a loud screech when Sam pushed it wide open. The path he was trudging on was flanked by unkempt shrubberies and undergrowth. At the end of the short path was a large wooden door, a barrier to a ten-meter entrance tunnel behind it. All vehicles needed to move through the tunnel to reach the main building up the knoll. He was glad to notice that the door still looked strong and sturdy despite the long period of time it had remained abandon.

Sam glanced to his left and right at the surrounding woods. There were no obvious threats, which was to be expected. He got there early, all the better for him to set up his defensive fort, not that it would do much difference in the end. Whatever would happen, he was not going to survive the coming battle.

And he was determined to take the bad guys along with him.

* * *

Spike's call to Natalie Braddock was instantly picked up on the other line. "Hello?"

"Hi, Nat."

"Hey, Spike. How're you?"

"Fine, thanks."

"I haven't heard from you lately. How are things?"

"Like usual. Where are you anyway? You sound real far."

"I'm in Bangkok now, backpacking with some friends from work. Wish you were here, Spike."

"Yeah, me too." He turned pink under his teammates' interested gaze. "Listen, Nat. I'm calling because I want to ask you something. But first, I'm putting this call on speaker."

"Oh? Is somebody there with you?"

"Yeah. My whole team."

His Boss stepped closer to the phone. "Hi, Nat. Sergeant Parker here, as well as Jules and Ed."

"Hey, guys. Nice to hear from you too. What is it you want to ask me?"

"Do you know what citadel means?" was Spike's direct question.

Natalie chuckled. "Sure. I'm not a dumb blonde, okay? Citadel is another word for fortress or castle. Really, Spike. You can always refer to a dictionary."

Rolling his eyes, Spike said, "I know what a citadel is. But does that word have special meaning to Sam?"

Natalie was quiet for several seconds. "_Sam_? Wait, what's going on, Spike? Where's Sam? Is my big brother in trouble?"

Spike sighed. "You can say that."

"Is he alright?"

"We're not sure yet because he has gone AWOL. The latest info we have is that he will meet someone at the citadel today. And that someone is a dangerous man. I'm not trying to worry you, Nat. But we need to find Sam fast or things could get real ugly. Tell me, have you any idea what 'citadel' actually means to him?"

"Hard to say, Spike. Sam hasn't mentioned it for quite some time."

Spike exchanged startled looks with the rest of his team. "So, you _do_ know. What is it then? A house, a bar, a town? What?"

"I don't know what it is exactly."

"But you just said—"

"Please bear with me for a moment and let me explain. It happened a long time ago, when Sam was still in high school. He was around fifteen or sixteen, I think."

"Okay. Go on, we're listening."

"At that time, the entire family had just moved back here to Downsview after our Dad ended his stint in Kuwait. You should see Sam then. He was a very angry teenager. Sullen and brooding, like he had certain issues he hated to deal with. A real wild army brat too, always getting into trouble. Drove our parents crazy. Hey, did you know that Sam crashed an army chopper inside the base once?" She laughed out loud. "A few heads got rolled after that stunt!"

Ed was genuinely impressed. "Interesting. Maybe you can tell us more about it later, Nat. Let's get back to the citadel. We are pressured for time here."

"Oh. Sorry," she apologized for digressing. "Well, soon after, Sam got involved with this girl from school. I had never seen him so happy. It grew pretty serious. They were in love with each other, going everywhere together. Sometimes they would cut classes to make out. Necking, groping, kissing under the bleachers, you know the drill."

Jules squirmed as her teammates gave her a telling look. "Yeah, we got the picture, Nat. So Sam played hookie once in a while. Big deal. All school kids do that. But how did the 'citadel' enter the picture?"

"I'm getting to it," said Natalie, a little brusque. "You see, I was really young at the time, around ten. I didn't understand things much, but I could still remember this one time when I caught Sam sneaking into his room late at night. I asked him, where he'd been. He told me he was with his girlfriend at the citadel. I didn't know what the word means and so I asked him to explain. The citadel was their special secret place, he said. It was the girl's idea to call it such."

"Did he tell you where it is?"

"No, but I believe it wasn't that far from the base, though Sammy had to steal Mom's car to get his girl there every Friday night. And then everything suddenly stopped after a few months."

"Why? What happened?"

"They got caught trespassing. It was a military property, so it was a very serious offense. Mom and Dad were so angry they nearly blew up the roof! Sam and his girlfriend were told not to see each other anymore. Not only that. She was sent by her parents to a private school in Geneva. Talk about tearing two young hearts apart. Sam was terribly devastated."

It was as if they all could feel the pain that Sam had felt on that day. Jules had to blink tears out of her eyes when she spoke next, "That's so sad to hear."

"But there's more," Natalie solemnly said. "Two years later, when Sam was eighteen and just graduated from high school, he received terrible news. The girl died from meningitis."

Jules gasped while her teammates looked stunned.

"Oh, my god…" Jules turned another shade of pale. "She…she _died?_"

"That's true, Jules. The night when those two got caught was the last time they saw each other. Sam was so heartbroken he decided not to go to college. Instead, he joined the army."

Already weeping, Jules had to turn her face away from her teammates.

_Poor Sam_, she thought. _Losing so many loved ones._ _His sister, his girlfriend, his best friend. Us. No wonder he's pushed this far. Oh, Sammy. What have I done?_

Parker squeezed Jules' shoulder to comfort her. To Nat, he asked, "What was the girl's name?"

"Uh…I can barely recall. But the kids in school called her M&M,"

"_M&M_? That's a strange nick-name."

"That's because both her name and surname started with M. Was it Maddy? No, I think it was Melanie. Wait, no. _Melody_? Yes, that's it! Melody Morrell. That's her name."

Team One was understandably shocked. Jules swiveled around and demanded to know, "Wait, what? _Morrell_? Are you sure, Nat?"

"Perfectly sure."

"Any relations to General Morrell?"

"Of course, now that you mention it. Melody was his daughter."

Spike stood wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. On behalf of his teammates, he summed it up in two words, "Holy _shit_."

**TBC...**

* * *

**Umm…should I break the finale into two parts? This fic is finally coming to an end, yes, but the ending is quite long. To tell you the truth, I still do not know how Sam is gonna survive this one. Let's just see how it goes. **

**Plot bunnies, get back to work! **


	6. Chapter 6

**My goodness. I'm sweating buckets here! You see, I faced serious problems writing this particular chapter. To find the perfect tactical moves for Sam during the imminent clash was incredibly hard that it caused me to lose sleep for three nights straight. Hopefully, I don't disappoint you guys.**

**Read on, my fellow Flashpoint lovers. I bring to you the Finale…**

* * *

Sam stopped in front of the big wooden door leading to the entrance tunnel. He put down his backpack before reaching for the steel chains hanging by the wall. Although they had turned rusty, the chains still felt solid and heavy within his grip as he began pulling. Like a garage, the door slowly folded upwards, inch after steady inch.

It was hard work, usually done by at least two men. But Sam managed it on his own by sheer strength and willpower, even though he was close to collapsing from pain and exhaustion.

When the door was completely raised, Sam looped the chains securely to a large steel hook. From his backpack he withdrew a heavy duty Maglite, which he switched on to light his way into the tunnel. The sharp dank smell of the abandoned tunnel was so awful that he had to press his nose against the crook of his arm. Breathing through his mouth, he gamely pushed on…

Only to come to a sudden halt when the beam of his torch suddenly fell upon some graffiti on the dirty wall. A large heart had been drawn around the wordings,

_**SAMMY AND MELODY WERE HERE!**_

Tears instantly formed in Sam's eyes as small whimpers escaped his lips, "Oh, Mel…"

It had been many years since he last thought of her, the girl he had first loved. This tunnel had stood witness to their special yet whirlwind romance. Every Friday night after school, they would park the car at the turnoff before running hand in hand through the dark tunnel and up the incline towards the empty house, which was not really a house but a two-storey residence bungalow that had been transformed into a military research lab. A fire in its south wing during the mid-80's had caused the entire property to be emptied due to some toxic chemicals involved. After several decades the grounds were finally cleared of any contamination, but the buildings remained uninhabited to this day.

For two teenagers who craved excitement and adventure, it was the perfect place to build their own escape haven.

"Our very own citadel", Melody had called it. They kept coming back, even though a sign clearly proclaimed that the area was restricted property and that all intruders would be prosecuted. Like any other normal youngsters, Sam and Melody thought they were at the very top of the world, that they would get away with anything.

How terribly wrong they were.

It had been a mere coincidence that a troop of military personnel was accompanying an independent development contractor to inspect the property, when they stumbled upon the teenage couple dozing on a pile of blankets inside one of the empty rooms. What was more surprising was that the two kids were son and daughter of two highly ranked military officers.

Sam could still remember how furious his father had been with him that night. Braddock senior had shouted and growled until tendons popped in his neck. He had even come real close to physically hit his son there and then. Upset by the boy's reckless conduct, Sam's father put his head together with his best friend Morrell to figure out a way to split the young couple.

As a result, Melody had been sent out of the country, far and far away from Sam. Out of reach, out of sight, but definitely not out of his mind. For two years he had pined for her, longing for the time when she would return home so they could be together again. However, things were never meant to be. The moment he received the news of Melody's death, Sam had driven like a mad man to their citadel, where he then collapsed in tears. He wept the entire night.

The very next day, Sam told his father that he was joining the military. Only he didn't mention that the actual reason was to seek his own demise.

Choking on his sobs, Sam lightly touched the graffiti with trembling fingers. "Hello, Mel. It's been awhile, huh? I hope you're happy, wherever you are. I…uh…I've met someone. Her name's Jules. She's special, like you were special to me. But she's dead. I lost her too. I love her…and they took her away from me…"

At this, Sam had to lean against the wall, for his body was trembling so hard. "Maybe…maybe we all can get together. Me, you…and Jules. Hey, here's a thought. You girls can fight over me. Let's see who will win. "

Amid his tears, Sam laughed. "I have to warn you, though. Jules was quite a hardass. She pointed her gun at my head the first time we met! But you're gonna like her, Mel. If you see Jules over there, watch her for me for a bit. I'll join you girls very soon."

Straightening up, he solemnly added, "Your Dad and I have some unfinished business to settle."

Wiping his face dry, Sam took a deep breath before he continued to limp towards the abandoned bungalow.

Someone was about to pay for everything he had lost.

* * *

After ending the call to Natalie, Team One immediately contacted Sam's father. They relayed to him everything his daughter had told them.

"You're fucking kidding me," General Braddock exclaimed at the other end of the line.

Holding his cellphone slightly higher so that the rest of his team could hear the conversation better, Sergeant Parker ruefully shook his head. "No, General. We're not kidding. This is definitely not a joke."

"Of course it's not a joke. I was just…" Braddock sighed heavily. "They called that godforsaken old place _citadel_? Truly, I didn't even know."

"And yet somehow Sam thinks Morrell seems to know," Jules remarked, a bit testily.

"Yeah," Braddock said, a hint of regret in his voice, "I'm not exactly father-of-the-year material, I admit that. And Sammy…well, he prefers to keep things to himself. It's always hard to make him spill his guts. Much easier to get a singing confession out of a damned cow!"

Team One couldn't help chuckling at the blunt comparison Braddock just made.

"So, General," Parker said, still smiling, "This godforsaken old place you mentioned, you know where it is then?"

"I do. It is deep in the woods of Downsview Dell, not very far from the base. The building was once a big house that was later turned into a military research facility, and then left abandoned after a fire in 1983. During that time the place was pretty isolated, as the housing area nearby was not yet developed."

"How did Sam even manage to discover the place?"

Sam's father snorted. "How did you think? A teenage Sam was not so different from the adult one, Sergeant. Smart, resourceful and very determined. Only he's no longer temperamental like before, thank God. But once in a while I still feel like taking a hide to his ass. The kid keeps driving me nuts! And right now I feel like grabbing him by the ear and drag him home. Jumping off the bridge, taking out that tracking device and leading us into a wild-goose chase. He has a lot to answer for!"

"That's fine, but we need to find him first," Ed pointed out. "If you would be so kind, sir, give us the exact location of the citadel."

Braddock gave them the coordinates, which Spike quickly fed into the team's GPS system.

Her face flushed with anticipation, Jules enthused, "Great. Let's go!"

"Hold on a minute!" the General cried out. "Look, I think we need to handle this very carefully. We cannot just rush over there and expect things are gonna be fine and dandy."

"But—"

"He's right, Jules," Parker said, "Sam is obviously on a deadly mission. More like suicidal. Who knew what mode of attacks he already has in mind towards Morrell and his cohorts. We have to plan our tactical approach, for Sam's safety and for ours."

"If we head over there now, there won't _be_ any attacks," she argued. "The meeting with Morrell is still five hours away."

"Actually," Sam's father quietly said, "I prefer to let the meeting take place."

The SRUs stared dumbfounded at the phone, equally surprised. "_What_?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Jules exploded. "If we let that happen Sam is gonna get hurt. In fact, he would be killed!"

"Hear me out for a second, Jules. _Please_," Braddock calmly implored. "I know you're worried about Sam. So am I. He's my only son after all. I love him as much as you do. But if we let Morrell continue to roam free, Sam will never find peace. He will be unable to stop looking over his shoulder. His life will constantly be in danger. And knowing the kind of a man that Morrell is, the bastard will not hesitate to use _you_ to get back at Sam. This is not only about Sam's life, Jules. This also concerns yours and that of your team's."

Biting her lower lip, Jules grew silent as she reconsidered. She turned to Parker, who reassuringly nodded back at her.

"Morrell must be caught, and this might as well be the only opportunity we would ever have," the Sergeant said, "Sam has done all the work, so let's give him a hand."

"The best idea I've heard in days," Ed commented. "General, how does a joint task force sound like?"

"It sounds real sweet, Mr. Lane. So Team One, let us convene in a meeting," Braddock announced, "We shall figure out how to safely get our boy back."

* * *

Lying on his front among the bushes atop the knoll, only meters away from the tunnel entrance, Sam looked through his small yet powerful binoculars. Two vehicles were fast approaching. A dark SUV and a grey panel van. The time was still a couple hours away from three o'clock.

Sam had to smile. _He's also early_.

At the turnoff into the driveway, the SUV slowed to a stop while the van moved onwards. Sam adjusted the binoculars to catch a clear vision of the driver and the man riding shotgun. A maximum of six people could probably be sitting inside the back of the van. Typical of Morrell to send a recon team ahead of him.

The van went up the path in a sedate pace and disappeared into the tunnel. Minutes later, the SUV started moving again. The first team might have given the others the all clear. As the vehicle got closer to the gate, Sam spied on and saw the familiar looking man sitting alone in the back.

"Ah, there you are. You just can't resist it, can you?" Sam smiled with grim satisfaction. "Now let the hunt begins."

He waited for a few moments after Morrell's SUV had passed through the underpass before leaving his hiding place. Pushing against the thicket, he then carefully scaled down the wall to stand next to the dark chasm. Without haste, he unwound the steel chains from its hook to lower the tunnel door until it was firmly shut.

That took care of the exit. The hostiles were now trapped inside the compound with no other way out.

Turning around, Sam climbed up the steep incline towards the main building. Using the cracks in the rocky surface as handholds, he nimbly moved like a mountain goat despite his injury. The adrenaline must have something to with his sudden burst of energy. He didn't bother to wonder how he would fare later on when the adrenaline rush finally subsided. He might already be dead by then.

Honed skills through years of battle training automatically took over as Sam moved with full stealth. He was in what the military would call as combat mode. Crouching low, he made his way towards the left wing of the old bungalow and vaulted over the sill of a broken window. He was already inside when urgent voices were heard coming from the front yard. Morrell and his men were deliberating among themselves about their next strategy.

"He's not here yet," one of them said.

Morrell was quick to respond, "No, he _is_ here, trust me. I knew that kid. I'm sure he's watching us right now. Go and find him but be very careful."

"He is just one man."

"Don't underestimate him, Kyle. Sam is ex-JFT2, an elite soldier. You won't even hear or see him coming."

"Right." Kyle snorted with amused skepticism before giving orders to his team, "Guys, spread out. Alpha, Bravo, east and west. Charlie, south. Delta with me, upper level. We're gonna pin this little bastard down. Let's move!"

Hiding behind a pillar, Sam quietly peered around to observe the hostiles. He made a quick count. Nine men with loaded firearms were rushing into the building. Another member stayed behind with Morrell near the vehicles. Even though they wore civilian clothes, all the men had military bearings and mannerism. They could be former army but now were being handsomely paid as mercenaries, which would be an added advantage to Sam because hired soldiers fought only for money, whereas he fought for justice. The men would run and cut their losses if things went south, but Sam would stick to the very end, even if it meant his own death. He had nothing else to loose.

There was also another advantage in Sam's favor. Home territory. He knew the place like the back of his hand. Unlike those mercenaries, he was familiar with its every nook and cranny. Those men were actually going in blind without full knowledge of the building. Sure, Sam was only armed with a handgun while they carried submachine guns, but he had been highly trained to take lives using only his bare hands. The only thing he required was to get up close and personal with them.

A slight scuffing sound told Sam that members of team Alpha were closing in. Inching towards the doorway, he made a brief glance and caught sight of the two men walking slowly down the hallway towards his direction. He dropped to one knee and collected a piece of a broken wall as large as his palm. He threw it as hard as he could at the remains of a windowpane across the room. The sound of broken glass was obscenely loud amid the silent stillness.

As expected the noise elicited shouts from the men, followed by their pattering feet. Seconds later they burst into the room.

"He's escaping through the window!"

Pushing his back flat against the side wall, Sam waited until both men were inside before he made his move. He grabbed the last goon around the throat and squeezed with all his might. Due to extreme pressure to the nerves in his neck, the man instantly went limp.

_One down, ten to go._

The first goon swiveled around at the choking sound made by his comrade. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Sam and he hastily aimed his weapon to shoot.

Sam was quicker. Still holding the other man in a headlock, he grabbed the gun's snout and gave a hard shove. As a result, the stock of the gun slammed into the other man's face with a loud crack. Howling, blood bursting from his nose, the goon stumbled. Yanking the gun free, Sam then viciously swiped it against the guy's temple. Goon number 1 was already unconscious when he hit the ground.

_Correction_, Sam thought, dropping Goon number 2 to join his pal on the floor. _Two down, nine to go._

Their radios suddenly made a muffled squawk. Sam hurriedly filched one of them, putting the transmitter into his ear.

"Mickey, Donald, tell me you got him," he heard Kyle, the team leader, demand for updates. "Hey, Alpha, you guys copy?"

_Sorry, fellas. Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck can't get to the phone right now_.

Sam had to grin, amused by the two goons' names.

"Bravo, Charlie, you go check it out. Delta, hold your position. I'm coming down."

_Time for the next phase_, Sam thought, relieving his victims off their submachine guns.

With practiced ease, he disassembled the weapons in record speed and nonchalantly tossed the pieces aside as he loped down the corridor towards the nearest side exit, away from the approaching assailants. The moment he got outside, he ran around the building and headed directly for the overgrown backyard. Without breaking stride, he took a leap and grabbed a fistful of the wall-clinging vine. After a short climb, he quietly pulled himself over a railing onto a balcony of the upper level.

"Alpha down, Alpha down!" Frantic voices burst through the comm link inside Sam's ear. Obviously they had discovered their fallen friends. "Shit. The bastard got one of the radios. He's listening to us!"

"Off the comm, now!" Kyle yelled. "Silent drill, team."

And the line just went static.

Sam shrugged. He yanked and threw away the radio. Drawing his own gun, he turned the safety off and started moving deeper inside, walking through the part of the building that had been badly razed in the fire decades ago. Everything was black and charred. He had to tread real carefully because the floor was littered with all kind of debris. He didn't want to make any single sound that could alert the men of his approach.

The hunters had now become the hunted.

Pausing near a doorway, Sam peered around to assess his current position. He was lucky, because the two members of Team Delta had just finished combing the entire floor, room by room. They would not bother to re-inspect the room he was standing in.

As the goons emerged from the last door on the right, Sam caught the sound of their whispering.

"Looks like all clear up here. Let's give the guys below a hand."

"Yeah, let's go."

The two men had to walk past Sam to get to the stairs. Like previously, Sam let the first goon through before making his move. The moment the second goon appeared, Sam popped out of his hiding place and slammed the butt of his gun into the man's throat, twice. As the goon toppled over like a log, Sam quickly turned around as the other Delta member, instantly aware to the intrusion, ran back up the stairs to intercept with his gun raised.

Sam had no time to think. The goon's gun was already prepped to shoot and so he took the only evasive maneuver he could manage in such a narrow time frame. He dove under the line of fire, right into the goon's belly. The repetitive sound of a blasting machine gun so close to his ears nearly deafened him, but Sam wasn't hit. However, the momentum of his sudden charge sent him and his enemy tumbling head over heels down the stairs.

At the bottom, Sam recovered first. He painfully pushed himself upright. Still lying sprawled on the floor, the goon tried to raise his gun again but Sam jabbed his fingers into the man's eyes with lightning speed. The man shrieked, reaching for his bleeding eyeballs.

Sam's Smith & Wessen was no longer in his hand, for he had dropped it during the scuffle. He had to get himself a new weapon. As he was stomping the wrist of the still howling blinded goon, the rest of the mercenaries came flooding in. Upon seeing him they opened fire.

In pure reflexive move, Sam hit the deck. With his grip around the confiscated machine gun, he swiftly rolled behind the staircase. A bullet struck him in his side but he ignored it, because there was no pain. That would come later. For now, he needed to stay alive long enough to take these bastard as many as he could to his grave.

And so he returned fire.

Sam's first couple of shots brought down two goons, while the third had winged another. The wounded guy scrambled for cover with his teammates who were still standing. Together, the three of them resumed firing, forcing Sam to take shelter himself. Under the barrage of shootings, chips of plaster exploded every each way around him as he crouched under the staircase with an arm over his eyes. He would hate to be blinded by the airborne shrapnel. Giving it a few moments, he then took a quick deep breath before swinging up his gun to counter attack.

The gun jammed.

Sam didn't even have the luxury to curse in aggravation because the enemies instantly took benefit of his sudden bad luck. They rushed out from behind their covers to swarm on him.

"Die, you little prick!" cried the man Sam had clipped earlier. He was about to squeeze his trigger when the strangest thing happened. His head simply exploded without warning.

Sam stared, bewildered, at the dead goon. Only one type of bullet could create such devastation.

_But who the hell…?_

"Sniper! Take cover!" yelled the remaining two men, diving back to conceal themselves.

Sam wasted no time to contemplate. He grabbed the dead guy's gun and jumped to his feet. Emitting a harsh battle cry, he sprayed the bullets at the direction of the enemies, pinning them down. One of them, the men's leader, made a brave attempt by poking his head around the wall to return fire, only to have Sam's bullet entered his left eye that killed him instantly.

"Kyle!" screamed the last man, horrified to see his whole team quickly disintegrating in front of him. "Ah, to hell with this!"

He turned tail and ran.

With predatory gleam in his blue eyes, Sam threw away his weapon and gave chase. He was hurting badly from his wounds, yet somehow that didn't slow him down in the least. He leapt and caught the fleeing man around the waist, throwing them both against the wall.

The goon came up fighting, elbowing Sam in the face. Undeterred by the blow, Sam used the heel of his hand to send a vicious karate chop onto the back of his assailant's neck. The man crumpled and lay still.

Everything then went eerily silent. Breathing hard, Sam leaned against the wall as he composed himself. He started to become aware of his pain, from the injury in his thigh and also the gunshot wound in his side. He felt weak all of a sudden. The adrenaline rush had begun to taper out, his endurance stretched taut to its extreme limit. However, he was not done yet because Morrell still walked free outside.

Sam pushed onto his feet with a low groan. Staggering, he carefully made his way to the front yard. He had completely forgotten about the last remaining goon until the man unexpectedly appeared from around a pillar and started shooting. Sam flattened himself against the wall to minimize being a target, but the shooting abruptly stopped. When he took a look, he was surprised to find the shooter now lay dead on the ground with a big gaping hole in his head.

That could only be the work of a sniper's .50 cal. Sam wildly looked around, a split second before he understood. He had help. Someone was providing him backup.

Thanking whoever it was that was watching his back, Sam managed a grim smile and pushed on.

Standing impatiently by the SUV, Morrell was yelling into his cellphone. "Come on, Kyle. Pick up, god damn it! I wanna know what the hell's going on!"

"He's dead," Sam announced, emerging into the sun.

Morrell blanched, deeply shocked by Sam's appearance. "S…Sam?"

"Expecting someone else, General?"

The older man swallowed hard, right before he slipped a hand to the small of his back to draw his handgun. But Sam, younger and much agile despite the agony he was in, was a whole lot quicker. And he was on a role. Bursting into speed, he lurched and rammed himself into the General. Morrell banged against the side of the SUV with a sickening thud.

Sam grabbed the gun before Morrell could get his hand on it. Tossing the weapon out of reach, he grabbed a fistful of Morrell's collar and slammed the man's forehead against the window a few times until it cracked. Nearly unconscious, Morrell started to slip to the ground.

Sam was far from done. He dropped his backpack to take out a set of handcuffs. Then he dragged Morrell to the back of the SUV and cuffed the old man's right wrist to the bumper.

Morrell blinked dazedly at Sam. "What…what the hell you doing, boy?"

Sam didn't respond. Instead, he collected the cellphone that Morrell had dropped and got behind the wheel of the SUV. He turned on the engine, hit the gas and sped down the driveway into the tunnel, dragging the screaming Morrell behind.

Sam drove to the very end of the tunnel before braking with a hard jolt, the front hood just inches from the heavy wooden door. As he limped towards the back, he found Morrell still firmly attached to the bumper, his chained wrist a bloody mess.

The old man had lost all his bravado. His clothes dirty and torn, his lower body filled with bleeding scrapes, Morrell whimpered as he stared up at Sam. "Listen, son. Just stop this. Okay, you won. Now let me go. I'll pay you…whatever you want. Just end this. Please… "

"Oh, I _will _end this, General. Very soon. Hang tight. I'll see you in a moment," Sam glibly replied as he walked down the tunnel, back towards the main building.

"Turn off the damned engine!" Morrell yelled. "The exhaust pipe is right in my face. The carbon monoxide, it's suffocating me!"

"Then you had better pray for my swift return, General," Sam derisively retorted. He didn't bother turning around.

By the time he reached the front compound, Sam's limp had gotten worse. Blood was also leaking from his gunshot wound, making him awfully dizzy. He refused to stop and rest, though. He needed to finish this, once and for all.

Reaching the enemy's panel van, Sam got in and drove it towards the tunnel. Instead of driving through, he parked it sideways under the archway, creating a blockade. The tunnel was now completely inaccessible. Satisfied with his crude handiwork, he stumbled out of the van and limped back towards Morrell, the rear light of the SUV lighting his way.

By now Morrell had grown frantic, shrieking like a madman as he tried unsuccessfully to free himself from the handcuffs.

"Sam, you crazy son of a bitch! Let me go!"

"So now _I'm_ the crazy son of the bitch?" Sam shouted back. "You killed Matt, you tried to kill me. And you wiped out my entire team! But _I_ am the crazy one?"

"Listen, Sam. That wasn't….wasn't my idea."

"Really? Whose idea was it then?"

"Those men, they paid millions for the Broken Arrow. They need me to retrieve the codes. That's why they busted me out during transit."

"My team was not supposed to be killed, General," Sam angrily shot back. "They had no part in all this!"

"The target was you, only you. Team One was collateral damage. Truly, Sam. I didn't realize they planned to take down your team with you, or I would have stopped them."

Sam chuckled without humor. Close to collapsing, he leaned his back against the wall and slid wearily to the ground, his legs splayed in front of him.

"Save it, Morrell. I believe not a word you said. Because you're a traitor, a murderer and a liar."

"Look, let me make it up to you," Morrell tried to negotiate.

"Nothing you do can make it up to me. You can't bring back my team or my best friend. So, shut up. Just up and die."

Overwhelmed by the exhaust fume, Morrell had to fight for breath as he spoke next, "You can't kill me, Sam. You…you're a cop."

Sam gave him a derisive smirk. "Who says I'm gonna kill you? Here, catch this."

Morrell's eyes widened when the younger man suddenly tossed him his own cellphone. He fumbled to catch it but missed. The phone hit the ground near his hip.

"You want to live, Morrell? Then call 911," Sam challenged him. "Or better yet, call my Dad. Your ex-best friend just can't wait to put you on the stand where you will be ripped to bloody pieces. Your choice, General. Either way, your ass is royally fucked."

Already weeping, Morrell grabbed the cellphone and started dialing with one hand. His face drained of all color when the phone refused to function. "It's broken. I…I can't make the call, Sam. The phone is broken!"

Sam shrugged with indifference and closed his eyes. "Oops."

"_Oops_?" Morrell yelled with enrage. "I'm gonna die, you bastard! We are both gonna die. The carbon monoxide will kill us!"

"So be it." Sam reopened his eyes and said, "Now ain't this ironic, General?"

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Us, dying together, at the place where I last saw your daughter?" Sam smiled sadly as he gestured at the graffiti on the wall behind him. "See this? Mel and I wrote them that night. I knew she had told you about calling this place our citadel. For that, you sent her far away from me."

"That was very smart of you, accessing my private email account to leave that message."

"And real foolish of you to take the bait." Sam then added in a quiet voice, "I loved Melody. I really did. She meant so much to me and you tore us apart."

"So this is revenge then, for separating you from my daughter?" Morrell spat back

"Revenge doesn't even come close, old man. Call it karma, whatever. You reap what you sow. You got what you ask for," Sam softly said, growing weaker from the exertion and blood loss. "You made your own shitty bed now sleep on it."

"You can't do this, Sam. You just can do this! Get me off these cuffs!" Morrell cried out, and promptly broke into coughing fits.

When Sam didn't respond, the former General began to shriek, "Help! God damn it, somebody help me!"

Sam was near to passing out when he caught the sound of droning engines and whirring helicopter blades. Morrell's cries grew more hysterical. "Hey, anybody out there? Quick, get me outta here!"

"Sammy? Son, it's me."

Sam's eyes flew wide open when he recognized the voice amplified by a bullhorn. He had to smile, not surprised that his father was able to track him down.

"Braddock!" Panicked beyond reason, Morrell started pounding against the SUV in order to attract attention. "Let me out, Braddock. Get me away from your son! He's gone mad!"

"We know you're in there, Sammy," General Braddock continued to say with a soothing tone. "Stand down, son. It's over. We're coming in."

Not long after, the chains were being pulled outside. The wooden door slowly began to rise. Sam had to squint against the afternoon glare as the door rose higher and higher. He saw several military guys stood flanking the doorway, fully armed. And then a familiar shadow appeared, moving fast towards him.

"Sammy? There you are," said General Braddock, greatly relieved to find his son. "You've been leading us in a merry chase, you silly brat."

"Braddock. Oh, thank god you're here," Morrell still couldn't stop whimpering his plea. "Help me, buddy. Sam tries to kill me!"

Kneeling by his silent son, General Braddock turned to glare at his former best friend. "I'm not your buddy. So shut the fuck up."

At Braddock's orders, a group of uniformed soldiers came to uncuff Morrell from the SUV. They dragged him away, still cursing and sobbing. Another soldier immediately turned the engine off.

Finally alone, General Braddock returned his attention to his son. "You're alright, Sammy?"

"I'll live, unfortunately."

The father made a quick inspection of his son's gunshot wound. "It's a clean shot. The bullet went right through. You're gonna be fine, son. But you're losing blood. Let's get you to the hospital right away."

"Those sniper shots, they were from your team?"

The General grinned in response. "You can say that."

"Why didn't you just let me die?" Sam suddenly asked with a sad gaze at his father.

Braddock senior paused to stare. "It's not your time to die, Sammy. You have much to live for."

"What's the point? I have lost everything."

"No, you haven't!" The General cupped both palms around Sam's face, forcing the younger man to look him straight in the eye. "I'm here, aren't I? Don't I mean something to you? Your Mom and sister, they also need you. We all do."

Sam's eyes instantly welled over. "I'm tired, Dad. So damned tired…"

"I know, son. I hear you."

"I can't take this anymore. I've lost so much. First, it was Alice. I let the stupid driver hit my little sister."

"It wasn't your fault, Sammy. You were a child yourself."

"Then I lost Melody, and then Matt. And now…" Sam buried his face in his hands. "Now Jules is gone. Team One is gone. _All_ gone…"

Swallowing hard, Braddock senior searched for the best words before he remarked, "All is not gone, son. Everything will turn out well. Trust me."

Alerted by his father's strange tone of voice, Sam grew still and slowly raised his head. "What exactly are you saying, Dad?"

The General managed a small smile. He was seriously calm as he said next, "Sammy, it is time that you know the truth."

**TBC…**

* * *

**Okay, okay, you all can stop screaming now. Sorry. I know I'm evil. I just can't resist doing that. I promise, the second part of the finale is coming real soon.**

**So keep on hanging to that cliff, guys. Just hang on! Muahahahaha!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the short delay, guys. I was not feeling well for several days. Sore throat, high fever, the works. Anyway, here's part two of the Finale.**

**Enjoy…or not. **

* * *

"The _truth_?" Sam was clearly puzzled by the announcement. "What do you mean, Dad?"

"Well, Sammy, there's no other way to say this but…" General Braddock sighed and continued, "I've lied to you. I've been lying the whole time."

Sam stared long and hard at his father. "What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

The General had problems meeting his son's gaze, causing the younger man to insist, "Dad, tell me! What have you done now?"

Taking a deep breath, Braddock senior straightened to his full height. His face was grim with purpose. "Come. I'll show you. Then you can decide whether you want to kill me or not."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "_What_?"

With a kind smile, his father offered him his hand. "Come with me, Sammy. It's going to be alright."

After a brief hesitation, Sam placed his hand in his father's and let the older man help pull him to his feet. He staggered out of the tunnel with his father's supporting arm around his back. If not for the elder Braddock's assistance, he would have dropped back to the ground, so drained and deeply in pain that he was.

Sam pressed a fist against his bleeding gunshot wound and stoically pushed ahead, blinking against the glaring sun. Overhead, a helicopter hovered close to keep aerial lookout on the entire property. A group of uniformed soldiers rushed past them into the tunnel, heading for the main bungalow atop the knoll where the fallen mercenaries lay either dead or injured. A convoy of military vehicles was parked near the turnoff. Behind them, stood a couple of familiar looking black SUVs.

Sam's heart skipped a bit and he stumbled to a halt. Mystified, he stared as several figures emerged from the SUVs to head directly towards him. He repeatedly blinked in disbelief, thinking that he was seeing a mirage. But no, he was definitely not hallucinating.

"Dad…" Sam slowly turned to his father, seeking explanation for the miraculous specter approaching them.

Braddock senior smiled with an encouraging nod. "Yes, Sam. _This_ is the truth. Team One lives."

Sam's breath caught in his throat. Trembling, he watched as his entire team, his brothers-in-arms, also halted. Only ten meters separating them now, allowing Sam to clearly notice the concern and anxiety on their faces. Team One was relieved to see him, and yet they also dreaded his reaction. And Jules…his dear beloved Jules…she was already weeping.

Suddenly she just started running towards him. A sob broke through Sam's lips and he burst into a run too. They met in midway, diving into each other's arms. Thoroughly overwhelmed, the couple dropped to the ground onto their haunches, embracing and kissing with wild abandon.

"Jules…my God…Jules…" Sam whimpered as he hugged her tight, almost crushing her slight frame.

She pulled back a little to frame his face within her palms. "Forgive me, Sam. I'm truly sorry. The entire charade, making you think that we all died…it was real cruel. God, I'm so sorry…"

"Forget it." Sam was shaking his head, smiling wide amid his tears. "All that matters is that you're alive."

"Hey, Samtastic. Aren't you glad to see me too, or just Jules?"

Looking up, Sam found the team's tech wizard smirking at him. Ed and Parker were not far behind.

"Spike." Without warning, Sam grabbed his friend's arm and yanked him down into his embrace. "Man, I feel like giving you a big wet kiss!"

"You, and million other girls. So get in line!" Spike laughed, returning the hug. He then turned serious. "It's so great to see you, buddy. And I'm sorry too. We thought we were helping matters by faking our deaths, so that you'd agree to full protection details."

"Instead the plan backfired," said Sergeant Parker with a sad smile, giving Sam's shoulder a squeeze. "We should have expected that you would retaliate in tenfold, Sam. It was wrong of us to underestimate you. For that I apologize."

Ed also knelt down with his team. Draping an arm around Sam's shoulders, he gathered the younger man close. "Saying sorry is not enough for what we've put you through, Samo. But we'll make it up to you, I promise."

Sam had to bit his lower lip to keep himself from blubbing like a baby. He looked at each of them, thanking his lucky stars that he had been given this second chance.

"No. _I_ will make it up to you," he said, his tears falling again. "I've taken you all for granted. You have no idea…how completely lost I felt the last couple of days…believing that you all had died. Like losing parts of my own limb…"

Jules moved closer to kiss his tears away. "Sammy, it's the same for us. When we found out about this suicidal mission of yours, we knew we're about to lose you."

"So we jointed task with your Dad to intercept. But we should have given you more credit," Ed sheepishly said. "That was real impressive, Samo. One against eleven? Not good odds, and yet you overpowered all hostiles except for two."

Sam stared in wonder. "Wait. The sniper shots. That was _you_?"

Ed shrugged with a grin. "Guilty as charged."

Grateful, Sam gave Ed's fist a squeeze. "Thank you. You saved my life, Ed. To tell you truth, I was quite disappointed at first not to be dead."

"Yeah, you were real determined to kill yourself, didn't you?" Parker tsked, his head shaking. "We all thought you had gone berserk when you dragged Morrell into the tunnel and blocked the way with the van. That was when we decided to interfere before the carbon monoxide could suffocate the both of you. Still, you didn't escape unscathed. Look at this. You're bleeding."

Sam glanced down at the gunshot wound in his side and dismissed it offhandedly. "Ah, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

That caused his team to chuckle.

"Somehow I'm not surprised that you gonna say that," Spike exclaimed. He then shot Sam a dirty look. "But you really surprised me this morning, buddy."

"What do you mean?"

"Dude, you stole my ID!"

"Huh?"

"The password cracker software. You logged in as _me_."

"Dude, I thought you were dead," was Sam's droll reply, much to their teammates' amusement. Laughing, the team drew closer together, tightening the group hug.

Shortly after, Sam raised his head as he thought of something. He turned around to find his father still standing where he had left him, quietly watching the reunion. Slowly, his eyes never leaving the General, Sam pushed to his feet.

Realizing his intention, Jules quickly said, "Sam, it's not his fault. It was actually _my _idea to make you think that we died in the explosion, not his."

"Yes, Sam," Parker agreed. "We asked your Dad to lie to you on our behalf. He's not to be blamed."

Ignoring them, Sam steadily limped back towards the General. When the father and son finally stood face to face, the older man defiantly raised his chin a notch.

"Go ahead, hit me. I deserve it," Braddock senior said as Sam continued to give him sharp penetrating stare. To the General's great surprise however, his son flew into his arms and held him tight.

"Thank you," Sam said, his voice breaking, "Thank you for bringing back my team."

"Sammy…"

"This is the greatest gift you've ever given me. You returned to me what I thought I've lost. I will never forget this."

The father gazed at his son's pale face. "I've done nothing but give you grief, kid. I'm sorry I lied."

"No, Dad. Don't be sorry. I'm glad you did what you did. After everything that happened, after what I went through, it's worth it."

Nodding with a smile, Braddock senior patted his son's cheek. He had to swallow the huge lump in his throat before he could speak, "Right. Um…good to know. Now…uh…I'd better get back to my own team. Can't have my men see me bawling my eyes out. I have a reputation to maintain, if you must know."

"You are still a badass, Sir. Always will." Chuckling, Sam let his father go.

"And get yourself to a hospital immediately," the General told his son as he walked away. "Or your Mom will raise an awful racket if I let you bleed to death."

"Oh, I will," Sam promised. A soft hand gently slipped through his fingers then, causing him to turn.

Jules was smiling up at him. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Pulling his arms around her, he kissed her eyebrow. "I missed you so damn bad."

"I missed you too," Jules replied, sniffling slightly.

"I was preparing myself to take a leap at you, Sam," said Spike, a little miffed. "I thought you're gonna hit your old man."

Sam and Jules just stared at him.

"Err…Spike?" said Parker, barely able to hold his smiles. "Don't you think we need to go and take care of the thing we discussed just now?"

Puzzled, Spike frowned. "What thing?"

"The _thing_," Ed insisted with a pointed look, accompanied by extreme eye gestures. "As in, the seriously important thing we previously mentioned."

Spike shook his head. "I don't follow you, Ed. What the heck you're talking about?"

Team One's team leader rolled his eyes heavenward. "Geez, Spike. For a real genius you can be awfully dense sometimes!"

"What?" And then Spike's eyes widened as he understood. "Ooh…_that_ thing. Yes, of course! We need to handle it this instant. Let's go."

As their teammates moved further to give them some privacy, Sam and Jules broke into chuckles.

"Um…that was very subtle," Sam remarked with a grin.

"Indeed." Blushing, Jules buried her face against his chest. As her laughter died down, she ruefully looked up at him. "Natalie told us about Melody. That's what led us to this place. I'm so sorry, Sam. I knew Melody was your first love. That must be awful for you, losing her that way."

"It's was a long time ago, Jules. Melody and I were not meant to be together." Drawing her close, he brought his lips down against hers. "But you and I are destined for each other. I'm so glad to be given the chance to hold you again. I love you, Juliana Callaghan."

"And I love _you_, Samuel Windsor Braddock."

"_Windsor_?"

The couple broke apart at Spike's sudden exclamation.

"That's what the W stands for? Windsor?" The tech wizard was grinning as he doubled back. "Man, I'm gonna broadcast this to the entire Barn!"

Sam looked questioningly at Jules. "What on earth is he babbling about?"

She emitted a helpless shrug. "They have been guessing at your middle name without success. They even put bets on it."

"Seriously?" Sam looked at Spike, bemused. "Dude, you could have just asked."

"I should have, but..._Windsor_?" Spike guffawed.

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?"

"It sounds too…well, _English_."

"So? My maternal grandfather was an Englishman. He came from Wales. Windsor was his actual name."

Spike blinked "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Now how about we start on _your_ name, _Michaelangelo_?"

Spike stopped laughing. "Okay, okay. I get it. I meant no disrespect. No offense."

"None taken."

"Want me to slap him upside the head, Samo?" Ed offered with a grin.

"Sure. Be my guest."

Ed did exactly that, causing Spike to yelp. "Hey!"

His indignant cries were cut short by the sound of a wailing siren from an approaching ambulance.

"Good, the EMT is here," said Parker. "You really should let them take you back to the hospital, Sam. Honestly, you look terrible."

"No argument there. I _feel_ terrible," Sam responded with a grimace.

As they all watched the ambulance pulled over, Ed suddenly asked, "Listen, Sam. I've been wondering. Who helped you remove the tracking chip from your back?"

Sam stared at his teammates with a secretive smile. "A friend."

"What friend?"

"Sorry. I'm not gonna tell you."

"Why not?" Jules was perplexed. "Is that _friend_ a woman?"

"Uh…" Sam gave her a wary look. "No. The friend is a he, not a she. Why, you're jealous?"

"Not in the least," she replied with a huff. She crossed her arms and threw him suspicious looks, making him squirm.

"Come on, Sam. Who is it? Wordy?" Ed continued to ask.

"No, not him."

By this time two paramedics had emerged from the ambulance, rolling out the stretcher. They helped Sam climb over, fretting over his wounded side and thigh.

"Was it Raf?" Parker also made a guess.

"Nope."

"Oh, I know," Spike claimed, "It was Steve, right?"

Sam had to smile. "Still no, but you're getting close."

As Team One scratched their heads for answer, Sam was carefully loaded into the ambulance.

"See ya later, guys!" he shouted with a weary wave.

"Wait, Sam. Who the hell was it?"

Instead of replying, Sam told the paramedic crouching next to his stretcher. "Shut the door and let's get the hell out of here."

Even though he didn't fully understood what was going on, the paramedic was willing to oblige. "Certainly, sir."

Team One could only gape as the door was shut on their faces before the ambulance sped away with their wounded teammate.

As he took the readings of Sam's vitals, the paramedic asked him, "The lady SRU, isn't she your girlfriend?"

"Yes, how do you know?"

"Steve Morgan and I used to partner together during assignments. That's how I found out that he lost her to you."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know paramedics gossip between themselves."

"Either that or go crazy from looking at gruesome things each day," said the paramedic, keeping the conversation going to distract Sam as pressure pads were placed against the gunshot wound. "So why didn't you let her ride in here with you, or any of them for that matter?"

At this, Sam grinned. "Just a little sweet revenge. I want to drive her and the team up the wall for driving _me_ insane in the first place. Now let them stew."

"I think they're really pissed."

"Sure they are. Especially _her_."

"Then why do it?"

"They said make-up sex is truly phenomenal, haven't you heard?"

Sam and the paramedic exchanged knowing looks a split second before they broke into laughter. Sam had to cease laughing when his injured side screamed with pain.

"Well, now that you've got your little revenge, I suggest that you lie still," advised the paramedic. "We'll reach the hospital very soon."

Sam closed his eyes and lay back, letting the medical professional to fuss over him.

_Team One lives_, he happily thought. _I've lost them, but I've found them again. If this truth is in fact a deceitful dream, then let me sleep forever, never to be awakened._

The ambulance continued to rush smoothly towards the hospital, flanked at the front and the rear by two identical black SUVs. None of Sam's teammates was given the opportunity to ride with him, but Team One would never leave his side. They would not let him be alone.

_That_ was the ultimate truth.

**THE END**

* * *

**Finally! It's **_**done**_**! Oh, thank God for small miracles…**

**This is the hardest fic for me, **_**ever**_**! It took me one year to complete. I have no idea why this particular story has been so hard to finish up. Maybe because the plot bunnies kept taking leave of absence without my approval. Right now, they're all in Antarctica, sulking, because I refused to raise their pay. Silly bunnies.**

**Thank you, guys, for reading this fic from the start to the very end. I know the quality is not that good, what with the typos and grammatical errors and the mistakes in tenses, the whole nine yard. But I'm real glad that you still bear with me, and some of you even help me to improve my weaknesses. Thanks a bunch!**

**And to those who spent their precious time reviewing, I wished I could pay you a bar of chocolate for every review that you submitted.**

**I will not stop writing, no sirree. So I'll see you guys again in other Samcentric fics.**

**Adromir signing out ^_^**


End file.
